


Raven

by Twisted_Barbie



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 75,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Barbie/pseuds/Twisted_Barbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU omegaverse. The first war was devastating to the populace of Middle Earth so the Valar intervened to help repopulate the land and the people they had come to love. Upon some they gave the gift of fertility and these special few were known as Omegas and were loved and cherished above all else. Their counterparts came to be known as Alphas and were less favourable and considered second class citizens due to their base animal behaviour and mindlessness when a rut came upon them. </p><p>Bilbo Baggins, an Omega nearing the age of fifty always believed his Alpha would find him but then he was always one to have his head in the clouds. Believing he has abused the system by not mating and producing children he sets out to the Meat Market in search of his Alpha and comes across a mysterious and rather foul tempered Dwarf named Raven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings and tags will be added as the story progresses

The sound of a horn pierced through the silence and made Bilbo startle in his armchair where he was relaxing for the evening. Bells rang out next followed by many whoops and hollers as omegas left their rooms and ventured out filling the halls in their curiosity. Bilbo marked the page he had read up to and placed the book down before leaving the comfort of his chair. He walked over to the open door and watched his fellow omegas celebrating on their way down the grand staircase.

“Excuse me,” Bilbo called quietly and raised his hand when he was ignored. “Um please, could someone tell me what’s happening?” Still he was ignored as the gathered cheered and moved steadily on. 

“Alright Bilbo, aren’t you coming?” Bilbo turned to find his dwarven friend Bofur walking up to him while wiping sleep from his dark eyes. His black hair was tussled, freed from the two messy braids he wore and his woollen hat was missing from his head. 

“Coming where? What is all this commotion about?” He asked since he was new to Weathertop and had never experienced anything like this in the Shire. 

“Found an Alpha sniffing around the compound, heard he’s a Ranger too, must of caught the scent of his One, no way a Ranger’s caught without wanting to be.” 

“So why the need for all the theatrics?” Bilbo questioned referencing to the muted cheers as the omegas were out of sight. 

Bofur eyed him incredulously. “A Ranger, Bilbo. His One is in this building, course everyone’s gonna try their luck, I wanna catch a glimpse of him see if he takes my fancy. Come on, Bilbo, no harm in looking.” True enough there was no harm in looking and looking was all that Bilbo intended to do as he felt no pull towards the alpha. 

He nods his consent and leaves the room with Bofur only now noticing the dwarf was ill-attired dressed only in a nightshirt and thick furred boots. There was woodchip in his beard from whittling in bed but he hadn’t the heart to tell him. They walk down the staircase and across the marble floor towards the Great Hall where the doors stand wide open and the gathered wait with bated breath. 

“Should have got here earlier,” Bilbo grumbles as he cannot see past the crowd. As a Hobbit he stood at a mere three foot six and was the smallest in attendance. It was not so in the Omega compound in the Shire. There he was of average height but the years he had spent without success of finding a mate had forced him to leave and try his luck at the next Omega colony that welcomed all races. 

“’Ere don’t fret, stand on one of these,” Bofur offers dragging over two chairs, as he cannot see either. Together they climb up and look over the heads of men and elves to view a vacant stage. Bilbo turns to address Bofur but his companion’s eyes are fixated on the stage and he wonders if he feels the pull of a soul bond. He turns his eyes to the crowd and finds dozens of omegas staring at the stage, some with interest like his own, others with hunger, a few with desperation and one or two with a look he once wore. A look of hope and unadulterated joy at the possibility of finding their soulmate. 

For a moment he feels sorry for the Alpha for surely the scent of so many tempted omegas must be driving him insane. It would be cruel to parade him on stage and let him drown in pheromones but he fears that is what they mean to do and have clearly done it before. It was not so barbaric in the Shire. When an Alpha gave himself up, whether from coming out from hiding or presenting as an alpha he was treated with respect, counselled and introduced to omega’s one by one so he does not become overwhelmed. It was against the rules for an unattached alpha to be introduced to an omega, near or in heat due to their incapability to make informed decisions however judging from the smell in the hall that was another safety measure that was not considered. 

A gavel strikes three times against a sound block and a hush as silent as the grave falls over the hall. Moments later two hunter’s walk out with an untethered Alpha of the race of men between them. Free from manacles his arms rest by his sides but his hands are fisted against his nondescript black Ranger robes as he tries desperately to keep his self-control. Bilbo watches as the blue-eyed Ranger eyes each omega in turn, leaning more towards the elves in the room and his fellow men than to the hobbit and the dwarves in attendance. 

It was said that an alpha had some inkling towards the race of their soulmate but due to their notorious unreliability to restrain themselves from temptation it was useless information. He thinks about this now as the Ranger only has eyes for men and he wonders if his senses are pulling him or that he was more comfortable with his own race. In the beginning it was thought that Omegas and Alphas of the same race were destined to be together but since then the notion had been disabused as many interracial couples had bonded and procreated creating entirely new species. 

An abrupt nod and a point of the Alpha’s finger and it was all over. A sigh of disappointment echoed in the hall as rejected omegas turned and went back from whence they came no longer interested in the proceeding. Bilbo was quite taken aback by their selfishness as a soul bond was a thing to be cherished and celebrated and he desired to see a matched pair meet for the first time as he hadn’t seen it before.

“Can you believe it?” A man complained and one look in his direction revealed Alfrid Lickspittle. “Just presented as an Omega and already gets an Alpha, it’s not right. Alphas should be given to the ones that have been here the longest!” Much to Bilbo’s disdain a few others agree and it ignites a fire in his belly. 

“Leave ‘im, Bilbo, he’s not worth it.” Bofur intervenes preventing him from stepping down from the chair. 

“Talk like that is dangerous,” Bilbo huffs and crosses his arms stubbornly. The treatment of Alphas had never sat right with him and though he did protest his voice was drowned by those that shared Alfrid’s opinion. 

“Look, the Ranger surrendered for this, just watch.” Bilbo does so only because he knows his fight is futile. He turns back to the stage and watches as a strawberry blonde Omega is led up the side stairs to the stage. Even from so far away he can see the Omega tremble and recognises him as Boromir, the Steward of Gondor’s son. He had been at the colony for less than a week so he can understand the others jealousy, as he approaches fifty he feels as though he has been left on the shelf too. 

When Boromir approaches the dark-haired Ranger, the Ranger takes his hands in his and kisses the back of them reverently. He is older than Boromir, at least twice his age from his world weary appearance but Boromir is taken with his mate and looks upon him in awe that it sparks a little happiness in Bilbo’s heart. Their first kiss is followed by applause which Bilbo enthusiastically partakes in and then the couple is led off the stage and the petty whispers begin again.

“Probably followed him from Gondor.”

“Just wants his title.”

“Overreaching Alphas.” 

Once again Bofur prevents him from arguing and they put the chairs back and leave the hall. “Was it everything you imagined?” Bofur asks, leaning against him as they walk up the stairs and fluttering his eyelashes. 

“It was,” he agrees. “It was beautiful.” 

“Aww Bilbo, you’ve the heart of a poet.” Bilbo snorted then, unable to take offence since none was given. “Right I best get to bed, early to bed early to rise an’ all that, gotta hunt tomorrow.” Bilbo stopped in his tracks and eyed his friend in disbelief. 

“Please tell me you are joking?” He asks though he fears the answer from Bofur’s downturned mouth. There were two hunts held every day in each jurisdiction where Hunters would escort an omega in heat out into the wilds in the hopes of ensnaring an alpha. The hunts were once hugely successful until the alphas became wise to their entrapment. Most chose to hide further in the shadows but a brazen few would abduct the omega and some weeks later the omega would reappear thoroughly ravished and pregnant. 

“My cycle starts tomorrow; I’m just doing my bit.” Bofur mutters ashamedly with his eyes trained on the floor. Bilbo cannot fault him for his need to give back, as omegas they were treated like royalty and given everything their heart desires and their only duty was to have children which he and Bofur had not done. 

“Be careful, you don’t want to end up like Bard, do you?” It is terrible to talk disrespectfully of Bard but his fear for Bofur is very real and he must. Bard was a good sort, allegedly descended from royalty but if there were any truth in the claim none could be found. Bard was one of the first omega’s to be abducted during a hunt and when he was found three weeks later dehydrated and disorientated he had claimed an elf and a dwarf were working together. No one believed his story and as the months passed by and his belly swelled none cared as he had done his duty and later gave birth to a girl. Some years later, aching for another child he joined the hunt and once again was abducted and reappeared some weeks later pregnant once again. His story had not changed from his first, that an elf and dwarf were working together and had shared him between them. 

When Bard went missing a third time he was not on a hunt and many guessed he had gone in search of his abductors. Omegas by their very nature were not good hunters, they could not track and though they could smell basic scent patterns, they could not distinguish one alpha from another unless it was their One. So it was assumed Bard had bonded with a feral alpha and reluctant to give him up he had made an outlandish tale to throw hunters off the scent. When he returned pregnant once again telling the same tale as before the elders allowed him to keep his secret alpha as long as his belly continued to swell with children. 

Needless to say Bard had returned not three months back pregnant and telling the same story to anyone who would hear it. Bilbo was happy to hear the story as he had not heard it before and he had wondered why Bard had three children and a fourth on the way and no alpha. It was scandalous to an old-fashioned sheltered hobbit with his head in the clouds and stars in his eyes. Bard did not relent in his tale, a dwarf and an elf had found some common ground between them and were working together. Bilbo had nodded along and made the appropriate noises but he didn’t believe him at all. 

“Three weeks of mind-blowing sex? Hey ho, worse things ‘appen at sea.” Bofur chirped merrily and Bilbo coloured in response. “Hey now, what’s this? Ya not honestly blushing cause I said sex, are ya?” Bilbo had no words and remained quiet. “You’re acting like a prude and we both know you’re not. I read those short stories ya like to write, that one with the elf and dwarf, nice.” 

“You weren’t supposed to read that,” Bilbo grumbled under his breath. 

“Tomorrow I’m gonna catch you an alpha so he can get you out of those stuffy clothes and put you on your back.”

“Bofur!”

“Okay your front then,” Bofur offered with a cheeky grin wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Good night, Bofur.” Bilbo insisted and pointedly walked ahead towards his quarters.

“Sweet dreams friend,” Bofur called with a wave and continued down the hall towards his own quarters. 

Not to be rude, Bilbo returned the wave and entered his quarters and shut and locked the door. It was needless to lock the door as Omega colonies were the safest places in Middle Earth but it offered him privacy which Weathertop sorely lacked. It was his own fault really for leaving the safety of the Shire and submerging himself into a world he hardly knew. Hobbits were terrible gossips and yet private all the same. They did not speak freely of their cycles nor did they intrude into other hobbits living spaces, they treated each other at an arm’s length. Here it was not so and to hear the way some omegas speak left Bilbo feeling uncomfortable. 

Bilbo rests his back against the door and eyes the prison cell before him. Each room came with an antechamber boasting a working toilet and sink and a large bed, three walls of brick and one of metal bars to cage a feral alpha. They had once come with a bath until an alpha attempted to take his own life beneath the water and the plans were scrapped along with any form of privacy the alpha may have had. 

It is a shame such cages became a necessity but when it was decreed that an alpha cannot hold any position of power or responsibility and were deemed property of their omega they had rebelled and chose freedom than to be oppressed. Less and less alphas gave themselves up when they presented and tried to hide their true nature or simply ran away which made cages and hunts a necessary evil. 

Bilbo approaches the cage and stares through the bars at the large bed. His alpha would lay there one day, as he had come to realise his alpha was a feral. For years he had waited in the Shire believing his alpha would come for him, as the Ranger had come for Boromir but with each passing year he realised he would age out before his alpha would come. So he took initiative and left the Shire in pursuit of his One. 

The colony in Weathertop was vastly different to the Shire as they encouraged omegas to leave the compound and actively search for their One. The surrounding village also held bi-weekly auctions of alphas captured in hunts. Money never exchanged hands in these proceedings instead the alpha was awarded to the omega with the greatest need. It had stunned Bilbo to learn that an omega could mate with an alpha without a soul bond and no judgement was passed. In the Shire poor Teddy Twofoot was known as ‘Four by Four’ and treated with disdain due to his inability to settle. 

In truth Bilbo does not wish to wait his turn as they pass around an alpha as though it were a game of pass the parcel. The poor alpha was not property or a thing to be discarded, it was a person capable of the same emotions as an omega but thought lesser because of their genetic code. He can’t imagine taking anyone between his thighs other than his One but he knew if he had not found his alpha in time then he would have to before he aged out and became infertile. 

He turns away from the spacious bed with a promise to himself that soon the cage would not be empty. He had taken the first steps in his pursuit to find his alpha and he would take some more and bite the bullet and go to the auction house. The place stank of desperation but Bilbo’s alpha had tarried too long and it was desperation that had driven Bilbo from his home. 

Taking a reprieve from his current thoughts Bilbo took a seat in his armchair- a home comfort he had brought from the Shire- and took up his book once more. The Genealogy of Lothlórien Elves had intrigued him not an hour ago but now he found they were meaningless words on a page. Instead his mind wandered to the Ranger and he imagined the Ranger’s stubbly kisses against the back of his own hands. He did not begrudge Boromir for finding his One, in fact he had celebrated it. However, he had never witnessed such an exchange nor had he ever encountered an unbonded alpha before so his mind could only supply him so much by way of imagination. 

He wondered what colour eyes his beloved would have although he could only picture the Ranger’s light blue. He imagined them full of love yet burning with desire so passionate it threatened to engulf them both in flames. He had hardly given a thought to the race of his One but he had gathered early on his One did not share his race. Alpha hobbits, though few and far between were homely creatures and immediately approached the elders when they presented as Alpha so that they could mate and start a family in the Shire. Bilbo’s alpha was most certainly a feral and wily to boot to evade capture for so long. 

Placing his book down, Bilbo stood once more and walked towards the bathroom. His mind was aflame with thoughts that he decided it only wise to rest his head least he further injure his already fragile heart. Undressing quickly, he changed into his nightshirt still relatively uneasy with his own nakedness despite the flagrant nudity he had witnessed at Weathertop. He brushed his teeth afterwards and blew out the candles on his way to bed. The bed itself was a wide four post canopy fit for a King but as he crawled beneath the abundance of furs and laid his head down to rest he had never felt so small and insignificant and so very very undeserving of such luxury.


	2. Chapter 2

Come the morning Bilbo stood on the balcony overlooking the Misty Mountains in naught but his nightshirt and patchwork robe, which was as risqué as he dared to be. The view was breath-taking and far better than the Shire had to offer but it did not lessen his love for his own land it only made him want to see more of the world. He lit his long pipe and smoked while he imagined fanciful adventures that would never come to pass. 

A clash of wooden swords awoke him from his reverie and he looked down onto the yard to see Boromir and his Ranger caught up in a duel. The yard was usually reserved for breeding stock to let off a little steam before they were handed to the next omega so it was a refreshing change to see two people in love. He watched as the Ranger ducked a rather obvious and sloppy swing of Boromir’s sword and slipped behind the omega only to wrap his arms around Boromir’s middle and press kisses against his neck much to Boromir’s delight. 

“Bilbo Baggins!” A gruff voice boomed, practically startling Bilbo out of his skin that he almost dropped his pipe over the edge. Bilbo turned, flustered and eyed the red-haired dwarf that had rudely interrupted him. 

“Gimli,” Bilbo replied in welcome. “Is your Alpha not with you?” Gimli’s hazel eyes twinkled with mirth as he laughed as though Bilbo had told a joke. 

“He’s still caged, I’m afraid.” Gimli sobered and placed a hand on his swollen stomach before he stepped closer heavy footed and lumbering. Bilbo eyed the soul mark upon Gimli’s neck as the dwarf stood next to him and eyed the couple in the yard. 

“But you are bonded,” Bilbo muttered, confused. “You carry his child.” 

“His children,” Gimli corrected with a pleased pat to his extended belly. “Twins, so Gandalf says though sometimes I think I carry a small army.” Gimli laughed again and chittered into his bushy ginger beard as though he was quietly addressing his children. 

Bilbo merely gaped at him perplexed and started to assume Gimli was mistreating his alpha. He did not voice his concerns as he had mistaken Gimli’s actions once before when they had first met. Gimli had shouted at him and pointed before stomping over as bold as you like. Bilbo was certain he was going to be attacked but Gimli had only approached him because he had caught the scent of his pipeweed and was curious to know what it was. 

“You really should let him out,” Bilbo implored. 

“Oh no, too flighty for that. The pointy-eared princeling would be gone before the door was fully open and I can’t give chase in my condition.” 

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo responded with a shrug to which Gimli replied with a chuckle. 

“Aye, Mister Baggins, I don’t suppose you do. You’ve got your head in the clouds at the best of times, doesn’t make you a bad person, just naïve.” Bilbo’s nose twitched at the blatant criticism but he had long since accepted Gimli’s character flaw. “A soul bond does not ensure a mate for life especially with a feral. Why I’m surprised more ferals don’t come forward to be bonded, their scent is irrevocably changed and they are immune to omegas save for their One. They’d cease to be hunted as they are harder to find and considered bad stock.” 

“But you are a mated pair,” Bilbo stressed, sucking on his pipe that had long since extinguished. “You belong together.” 

“So we’re told,” Gimli replied twisting his braided moustache. “Doesn’t change the fact that his freedom was taken because of me.”

“It is a small price.” Bilbo worried that his talk was sounding too much like Alfrid’s and decided to change the subject. “You found Legolas at the auction house some months ago, correct?” Gimli nodded. “I have considered attending myself, how did you…um…well win him, I suppose?” 

“Master Baggins going to the meat market, well I’ve seen it all now.” Bilbo eyed him, bemused. “Well a soul bond is an immediate ‘win’ as you put it. If there is no match the alpha is awarded to the omega most in need, firstly by age and then by cycle.”

“The next auction is in four days hence; would you escort me?” Gimli’s gaze turned towards the floor and Bilbo’s optimism for an agreeable reply was dashed. 

“I would but it would be unkind returning to my room smelling like an unbonded alpha while my One can do nothing locked in his cage.”

“I hardly think you would stray.”

“That is because you are of sound mind while he is driven by more base instincts. Can you think of no other to go with you?” 

Bilbo sighed. “Bofur, perhaps,” but he knew it was a lie the moment the name passed his lips. He eyed the couple in the training yard once again watching as they tussled in the dirt before having to turn away before he viewed something he was not privy to. 

Gimli laughed having witnessed the same spectacle and moved away from the wall. “Well good day to you and good luck.” Gimli turned then and began to waddle away. 

“Gimli?” Bilbo called and the dwarf stopped and turned in query. “Was there not a reason for you approaching me?” The dwarf shook his head whilst muttering to himself though what was said Bilbo could not hear. 

“Bless me, Master Baggins, my mind is all over the place. Have you anymore of that Old Toby? It is by far the greatest pipeweed I have ever smoked and I am willing to trade for a pouch of it.” Bilbo clutched the pouch in his dressing robe pocket remembering the two others in his room. He would have to send word to the Shire and have more delivered. He smiled, realising he could kill two birds with one stone by having pipeweed delivered by his much loved cousin who could then accompany him to the auction house. 

“No need for a trade,” he said while bringing the pouch from his pocket and passing it over. 

“Nonsense!” Gimli exclaimed, voice booming as he plucked a gem from his gilded belt. “Take this, it will do you well for the upcoming days.” The dwarf then pressed the stone into the palm of his hand before taking the offered pipeweed. Unable to postpone his curiosity a moment longer, Bilbo opened his hand to reveal a rectangle cut emerald. “Where I come from we call that the Stone of Hope, well that is its basic translation in the common tongue. It symbolizes hope and fertility and it has done me well.” Gimli patted his belly once more. “May you have luck with it,” with a brief nod Gimli turned and waddled away once more. 

Bilbo stood uncertain and sucked on his extinguished pipe once more before sighing and returning it to his pocket. He looked over the balcony once more before startling at the sheer indecency occurring in the yard and soon followed in Gimli’s wake. The auction would be in four days so he must write a letter to his cousin imploring him to come posthaste least he has to wait another two weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo paced, fretting, clutching his hands behind his back as he turned his head to gaze west towards the Great East Road. His second cousin Drogo Baggins had sent word that he would be arriving shortly having found safety with a party of elves in Bree though it did nothing to quell Bilbo’s anxiety. He had informed Drogo of the upcoming auction though he had not addressed his trepidation about it. He had gotten himself so worked up he had smoked his remaining tobacco and was quite sure he had developed a twitch.

“Hello friend,” a pleasant voice called out and Bilbo turned towards the compound gates to see a familiar handsome brunet. 

“Good afternoon, Bard.” Bilbo returned eyeing the long bow and quiver on Bard’s back with curiosity. Bard returned his curious gaze as hazel eyes took in his sky blue neckerchief, golden waistcoat, white shirt and three quarter length green breeches. 

“Are you due for a hunt?” Bard asked in a low voice and a sly smile with mischief dancing in his eyes. 

“Not quite,” Bilbo answered with a blush. “Though I am due a visit to the auction house this evening, will you be attending?” 

“Oh give me a break!” A new voice cut in, high pitched and whining. Both he and Bard turned to watch Alfrid Lickspittle come from behind the wall where he had been hiding. “Excuse me, Your Highness,” Alfrid hissed, skulking towards them. His gait was slow and his shoulders hunched as he glared nastily at his fellow man. “Shouldn’t you drop that sprog before you take another alpha?” His words were laced with jealousy but Bard was immune to Alfrid’s frequent and needless tongue lashings and merely rolled his eyes while affording Bilbo a tight grin. 

“I can assure you, Alfrid, I’ll take no alpha but my own.” Bard replied coolly and Alfrid drew back his lips revealing large yellowed and decaying teeth. 

“Yeah, see that you do. Had enough of your lot coming ‘ere and stealing all the alphas!” Alfrid grumbled and pushed a lank greasy strand of hair behind his ear. “’Bout time those gates were closed, we don’t want no more omegas.” This time Alfrid levelled his muddy brown eyes on Bilbo and his monobrow rose up pointedly forcing Bilbo to stifle his laughter against the back of his hand.

Bard smiled behind the smaller man and as though aware of what tickled Bilbo he rose his own eyebrows and pulled faces in jest forcing Bilbo’s cheeks to redden as he tried desperately not to laugh. Having realised his focus was no longer on Alfrid the pale black-haired creature stepped back so he was in between them once more. “So I suppose you’ll be going to the auction then?” Alfrid asked, eyeing Bilbo from curly head to large feet with a grimace. 

“Do not fear, my friend.” Bard intervened, clamping a hand onto the smaller man’s hunched shoulder. “You’ll find your alpha soon,” he crooned and Alfrid turned towards him with a look of confusion on his face. “You won’t miss him,” Bard continued. “He’ll be the one with a single eyebrow.” A burst of laughter emitted from Bilbo and he slapped a hand over his mouth as Alfrid looked between him and Bard reminding him of a flustered crow in his flowing black robes. Alfrid made a few noises of distress but unable to conceive of a decent retort he stomped away towards the compound with a few choice words whispered under his breath. 

Bilbo watched him leave both startled and amused. “So I’ll ask you again since we were rudely interrupted before. Will you be attending tonight’s auction?” 

“No,” Bard answered running long fingers along his goatee. “I’ve no need for an alpha,” he added with a pat to his belly though he was too early into his pregnancy to be showing beneath his long sheepskin coat. 

“So where might you be off to then?” Bilbo asked, gesturing towards the long bow. 

Bard lifted it as though he was unaware he had it with him. “Thought I might go hunting for rabbit before I get too big,” his eyes crinkled in the corners which Bilbo found charming. “Soon it will be swollen ankles and bed sores the joys of preg…” he paused then, looking wild-eyed. “I apologise Bilbo; I was not thinking.” 

Bilbo shook his head and waved his hand as if to stave off his apologises. “I should not keep you or else you’ll lose the light,” he offered magnanimously though Bard eyed him with caution as though fearful he had offered him insult. 

“Good day then,” Bard replied and walked away, throwing the odd worried look over his shoulder until he was out of sight. 

Bilbo continued to pace back and forth before the gate until the compound bell rang out. He paused then, unsure of its meaning as no horn had sounded before it which had meant an alpha had been spotted if memory served. He turned to look upon the battlements, as during the First War Weathertop was used as an outpost observatory tower and found a light haired hunter with eyes turned towards the Great East Road. 

“Ho!” Bilbo called and waved his arm, catching the attention of the hunter. “Alpha?” He shouted to the stationary man who shook his shaggy head in response. 

“Caravan!” Bilbo’s heart was fit to burst with the news. He turned his gaze westward but could see no sign. 

“How far?” 

“Two leagues!”

“Elves?”

“Seems so!” 

Two leagues at a sedate pace would have them arriving anywhere between thirty minutes to an hour. Bilbo considered walking up along the East Road and meeting them halfway though he would seem overeager and would have to double back which seemed pointless. There was also the chance, slim but still a chance that the caravan that had been spotted was not the one Drogo had joined and then he would look quite foolish. 

He chooses to wait and turns his attention towards the village and to the large wooden building with a belfry. The village hall was on the small side though it was said it could house one hundred and fifty at capacity which was manageable for an auction. Not every omega was overly keen on auctions, Bilbo certainly wasn’t but too long alone had made him ignore his distaste for the place as he imagines time had worn on the others frayed nerves. 

It was not uncommon for a bi-weekly auction to be cancelled due to lack of stock. In fact, it was becoming fairly common that Bilbo was relieved to see the comings and goings at the village hall in preparation. He allowed his mind to wander as he wondered how many alpha’s would be up for auction. He had heard tell that a great auction held five but those days had long since passed and the usual offerings was one or two. He imagined two to ease his mind hoping the pair found comradery in their chains and were calmed by the presence of one another. He did not wish to picture them frightened and distressed despite the likelihood of that being the case. Instead he imagined them in silken robes dining like kings and glad for the upcoming auction so they may at last find their soulmate.

Despite their captivity and exploitation, it was decreed that an alpha would never solely be breeding stock. No matter the auction, the alpha will always be taken to the omega colony in that jurisdiction and made to attend those in need while hopefully finding his mate. If the alpha has failed to do so and has done his duty, he will be carted off to the next omega colony and endure the same until he finally found his One. 

The bell rings again, startling Bilbo from his thoughts and he turns to see the approach of elves and among their number a small rotund man the size of a child. Before he had fully comprehended his own actions his feet took him hurriedly over to his cousin where they embraced like old friends reuniting after years of separation. 

“Bilbo Baggins, look at you!” Drogo exclaimed whilst holding him at arm’s length. The scrutiny of his cousin’s stare caused Bilbo to incline his head and gaze at the ground. “You’ve lost some colour and some weight!” Drogo announced loudly so that the elves could hear but did not seem to care.

“If I have lost some weight I am quite sure you have found it.” Bilbo jested with a poke to his cousin’s large gut. 

“Oh ho! There’s that sharp wit, I daresay I’ve been quite lost without it. None could cut Lobelia Sackville-Baggins to the quick quite like you and I’m afraid to say her ego has recovered in your absence.” Bilbo briefly thought of the pale hamster-faced woman and harrowingly he realised he had missed their verbal spars. “Help me with my bags, will you? I’ve bought a whole field of leaf.” Bilbo approached the caravan and took the large backpack and pulled it over his shoulders as Drogo retrieved a second backpack and did the same. 

“Thank you for your time and hospitality it was most gracious of you.” Drogo addressed his elven hosts and they inclined their heads and moved on along the Great East Road. “Lovely folk, just lovely,” Drogo commented watching them walk away. “Come then Cousin, show me to your rooms.” 

Bilbo nodded and walked towards the omega colony with his cousin awe-struck by his side. “How fairs married life?” Bilbo asked making small talk as he caught sight of Alfrid Lickspittle practically hissing at the sight of another hobbit within Weathertop. 

“Horrible, Bilbo, simply horrible.” 

“Surely you jest?” Bilbo asked eyeing his cousin. 

“Urgh, I had quite forgotten to whom I was speaking to.” Drogo sighed, put upon. “Marriage can be a magical thing, Bilbo, it ‘can’ be.” Drogo stressed. “I daresay mine was until Primula became pregnant.” 

“Primula is pregnant? Congratulations.” Bilbo stopped to embrace his cousin once more. “Wait, did you abandon your pregnant wife to come see me?” Bilbo asked aghast dropping his arms to his sides. 

“What I left in the Shire was not my wife and abandoned is harsh as she is staying with her mother as my face upsets her so.” It would be horribly inappropriate to laugh so Bilbo found himself clearing his throat as he imagined his spirited first cousin big bellied and angry at her spouse. “I was desperate to get away so your letter was very much welcomed.” They walk to the door and it opens as two unbonded omegas exit with several of their own children between them. Bilbo turns to see that Drogo’s blue eyes are wide as his jaw drops in astonishment and he can only hope that the pair did not see as they enter the building. 

“They were not bonded,” Drogo hisses in a whisper, scandalised. “Is this a colony of Teddy Twofoots’?” 

“Lower your voice.”

“Four by fours! It’s vulgar, have they no shame?” 

“Drogo!” Bilbo hissed and then took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. “We are no longer in the Shire; people do not live as we do.”

“Scandalous,” Drogo muttered and Bilbo could not help but laugh as he remembered he was very much the same as Drogo when he had arrived six months prior. 

They enter the foyer and Drogo’s derisive comments die on his tongue as he takes a startled intake of breath as the leathery soles of his bare Hobbit feet slap against the marble floor. Bilbo pauses to watch Drogo marvel over the opulence of the hall and he realises then that he has become disenchanted with the place. The Shire colony did not boast marble floors or crystal candelabras it was a Hobbit Hole and it offered warmth, comfort and food. This décor was ostentatious and undoubtedly ridiculously expensive however Omegas were considered treasures of the earth and were spoiled.

“How I wished I had presented as Omega,” Drogo spoke in awe and Bilbo chose not to correct him. It was true, Omegas were spoiled but the wait for their Alpha was damn near excruciating as they were forced to live half a life, with half a heart and half a soul, that even the great wealth of Erebor could not fill such a gaping void. “It’s needlessly big though,” Drogo carried on. “And on a hill not under it, imagine that, quite queer but nice all the same.” 

Bilbo allows his cousin to take it all in as they walk up the stairs and along the corridor to his quarters that are three doors down on the right. His door stands open since his room has been cleaned with no attention to privacy despite telling them many times he was quite able to clean his own rooms. He enters without a fuss and is startled when the door slams behind him and he turns to see Drogo turning the key in the lock. 

“Enough of this,” Drogo begins, voice stern as he turns. What more he meant to say was forgotten as his eyes fell upon the cage and he stomped over to it red in the face. “What is this monstrosity?” He demanded pulling on the unyielding metal. “Do you mean to put an alpha in here?” 

Words failed Bilbo as his cousin fumed in silent fury. He merely stood opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water hoping that words would come but they would not. “You are changed, Bilbo and not for the better. The hobbit I knew would be appalled by this treatment of alphas and he most certainly would not attend a meat market unless to protest it!” 

“Why have you come then?” Bilbo replied mustering a little false bravado to save face. 

“To take you home.” Bilbo shook his head ignoring the tears welling in his eyes. “You have lost your way and I mean to help you find your way back, all roads lead home.” 

“Only if you have a home,” Bilbo snapped.

“The Shire is your home.”

“The Shire was my prison!” Bilbo snapped and began to pace as his heart lurched painfully in his chest. “Perhaps I have changed but for years I endured stagnation and hopelessness and though I may not feel wholly alive I do not feel as dead as I did in the Shire.” It was Drogo’s turn to mimic a fish out of water. “Do not mistake me, I love the Shire and I mean to return but I am old now, too old for an unbonded omega. Yes, I find that cage reprehensible and the auctions demeaning but I am desperate and desperation makes monsters of us all.” 

Drogo’s gaze softened and Bilbo was glad of it as he had no desire to fight. “Cousin, how long have you been feeling like this?” Since he found his first grey hair. Since he neared the age of fifty. Since he was born an omega with a hole in his heart. 

“As long as I can remember,” and without warning the floodgates opened and Bilbo wept. 

“Hush now,” Drogo encouraged and pulled Bilbo into a hug, patting his honey curls as if to console him. “Stop these tears, we can’t have your cheeks stained in sorrow for the upcoming auction.”

Bilbo tried his best to swallow his grief as he eyed his cousin in surprise. “You will still accompany me?” 

“I will.” Drogo replied, resolute.


	4. Chapter 4

The bell on top of the village hall was the original warning bell in Weathertop that rang out when foul things were seen leaving the mountains. Now the bell rings and desolate omegas emerge from the shadows and slope down the hill of Weathertop as once fell things sloped down the mountains. The whole affair seems seedy, done in darkness and silence as omegas become as low as their counterparts answering to one basic instinct. 

“Well, it’s not very joyous, is it?” Drogo huffs and takes his hand in his as they are among some less than savoury characters. Bilbo chooses not to answer as he was under no delusion that an auction was a pleasant affair. It was cold and impersonal, no more than a business transaction rather than a love match. “I wonder how many there’ll be.” Drogo continued and Bilbo turned to answer until his body struck something that shook his entire being to the very core and his vision faded as he dropped unconscious to the ground. 

“Bilbo? Bilbo? Good heavens, what happened? Bilbo?” It is a chore to open his eyes but when he does he is met by many worried gazes circled above him. He imagines he made a great spectacle of himself but nothing seems to matter as he feels a clawing sensation at the back of his mind. “Bilbo, are you okay?” 

Bilbo huffs a laugh then as he tries to focus on the clawing sensation and realises it isn’t clawing it is screaming. “I feel him,” he answers, breathless. “I can feel him and he’s angry.” He sobers then focusing on his alpha’s potent rage and finds him every bit as passionate as he always thought him to be. “He’s really angry.” His rage is like fire licking up his spine. 

The gathered cheer as he is helped up and the atmosphere that was once dank and seedy becomes light and cheerful as they made their way to the village hall. “Can he feel me as I feel him?” Bilbo hears himself question to his new friends that are happy to witness the first meeting of a matched pair and are staying close by his side should he become overwhelmed by his mate’s passion once more. 

“Who knows, but I have an inkling he’ll be feeling you later.” One of the younger men jests whilst elbowing him in the ribs and winking. Bilbo does not care to correct him. His cycle is not upon him yet and he would like to take the time that he had to get to know his alpha before they mated and at the height of their intimacy became bonded. 

When they enter the hall Bilbo finds it very basic. A wooden floor with a raised platform three quarters of the way down as behind that stands a wall where they undoubtedly keep the alphas and most likely the stairs to the belfry could be found behind the closed doors. He imagines the chairs and tables have also been moved to the back room as space has been made for as many omegas needed though by a quick headcount, made easier by the lack of dwarven omegas, stands roughly between sixty and seventy. The hall is well lit as many torches hang from steel structures on the wall and in-between them hangs house banners from a war from a bygone age. 

A knock of a gavel on a sound block mutes the chatter in the room and Bilbo is not unaware that he is pushed to the front, as Drogo struggles to return to his side. The auctioneer, a man in his late fifties with stark white hair and blue eyes, stands proudly behind a wooden column. His robes are as black as night though he has a kind demeanour judging from the lines of his mouth which suggested he more oft smiled than frowned. 

“Close the door!” He called out clearly and with authority and Bilbo heard the door close and become barred. “I am pleased to see so many of you have turned out and that there are new faces within your number. You are in for a treat tonight as we have three alphas up for auction and I have been told we will be witnessing a soul match.” His eyes briefly fell on Bilbo and the auctioneer smiled warmly while three quarters of the gathered cheered in genuine excitement. 

“Our first specimen is a Rohirrim cavalry man found hiding in Weather Hills. Please give a warm welcome to Cenric.” The door left to the stage opens and Bilbo can feel the heavy gaze of his fellow omegas as they look between him and the blond haired blue-eyed Rohan soldier. He is a handsome man with a defeatist demeanour as he stands on the stage unchained but his head is down and his long tresses hide his face. Bilbo feels nothing for him, except for sorrow that this once proud man has been caught and is now despondent. 

Curious to know how exactly an auction works, Bilbo turns and sees many hands raised in the air. The auctioneer looks to him first with a questioning look and he shakes his head. His alpha was not defeated; his alpha was rage personified. 

“Alfrid Lickspittle, aged thirty-four.” Bilbo hears Alfrid call out in a nasally voice. 

“Yes I am well aware of your name and age,” the auctioneer retorts. “Anyone above thirty-four interested in this fine cavalry man?” 

“I-uh-Yes-me p-please.” A timid voice calls from the back, too far away for Bilbo to see. “Forty-two,” he adds lamely and Bilbo hopes beyond hope that he is awarded the alpha as they are of the same disposition. 

“Anyone above forty-two?” The auctioneer calls out and scans the room and Bilbo does the same but finds no more raised hands. “Done!” A knock of his gavel and Cenric was escorted off stage and led through a door to the right as the winning omega ran a gauntlet of back pats and congratulations before following after him. 

The weight of the omegas’ stares became heavy once again as Bilbo took a deep breath and watched the left door. “We found our next alpha in Trollshaws just shy of the Rivendell border, please welcome Oreldîr.” The door opens and a tall slim elf with straight brown hair emerges alone and seemingly floats on air as he stands upon the stage in flowing silver robes. The elf has more about him than the soldier as he looks around the hall haughtily with a touch of disgust in his eyes and a sneer on his thin pink lips. 

Once again the auctioneer looks to him first but he shakes his head. The only disgust his alpha feels is for himself for being caught. Bilbo sways unsteady on his feet but Drogo catches his arm as he cradles his head as his alpha’s screams become louder as he has realised he is next. 

“Yes Alfrid!” The auctioneer snaps so Bilbo can only assume Alfrid had raised his hand once again. “Anyone above thirty-four?” 

“Thirty-five!” A new voice rings out and Bilbo turns to see that there are no more hands raised though he can understand. Oreldîr was a beautiful man, young in the years of his people but the omegas that had found their way here tonight were filled with self-loathing and Oreldîr’s blatant disgust of them did not make him a prize worth having. That was not to say he would not be chosen as his critical assessment of the room more than likely stirred some omegas ire. Those with a sense of superiority and entitlement would chomp at the bit to put the pretty thing in his place. Bilbo did not agree with it, but there was little he could do as he fully intended to use his own self entitlement to win his alpha and take him home. 

“Anyone above thirty-five?” The auctioneer asked and left it hanging but none came forward with a higher bid and the gavel pounded the sound block. 

“One bloody year!” Alfrid cried in rage as Oreldîr left the stage soon followed by the winning omega who was making rude hand gestures towards Alfrid. Having had enough and knowing whom was next Alfrid and his cronies left the hall discontent giving the gathered something to talk about.

The auctioneer was forced to hammer the sound block to bring them to order and Bilbo’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as he struggled to breathe as he could look at nothing but the left door. “I think we all know who is next,” the auctioneer grinned but Bilbo could not join in his merriment as he was hyperventilating whilst Drogo worriedly rubbed his back. “Our brethren in the Shire found our next alpha stealing vegetables from Farmer Maggot in the Eastfarthing with a cohort whom unfortunately evaded capture. This alpha, dwarf in race was not forthcoming with personal information and the hunters were quite sure he was speaking in the language of the ravens, so please bring out Raven.” 

The silence in the hall is as quiet as the grave so they can all hear the scuffling backstage and staggered breaths of exertion before the door slams open and strikes the wall and his alpha stumbles out as though pushed. Rage burns in his heart though he was quite sure it was not his own as the dark-haired dwarf turned and snarled something in the direction of the hunter behind him. 

“Go!” the hunter snapped, pushing him once more and Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. His alpha, his dwarf, his Raven had a large steel collar around his neck and as he turned he could see his wrists were chained behind his back and a chain ran from the collar to his wrists while another chain ran from his wrists to his chained ankles. The hunter behind him holds a long stick with a wire looped around his alpha’s throat so he is able to keep control and some distance from the irate dwarf. 

It is a struggle to the stage but once there the hunter kicks Raven behind the knee and the dwarf falls to his knees. Bilbo has no idea when his pipe made its way into his hand but he soon flung it at the hunter taking perverse delight in watching it strike his eye. The beast of a man drops the stick and stumbles backward off the stage but remains upright covering his injured eye whilst the omegas in attendance heckle him. 

The auctioneer pounds his gavel though he seems to share their sentiment as he glowers at the hunter still clutching his eye. “You didn’t see what he did to me,” the hunter sulks under the auctioneer’s scrutiny. Bilbo feels a spark of amusement that was not his own and he turns to lock eyes with Raven. There is blood on his pale face from a split lip and a nasty gash above his right eye that would need tending. His long wavy black locks are interspersed with silver strands and matted with undergrowth as though he had tousled in the woods which made sense as the woods bordered Farmer Maggot’s property and he would have run there to evade capture but instead he was taken down, hard.

His black beard, also interspersed with grey whiskers was shorn which should not be so for a dwarf of his age. Anger coils in his heart as he wishes he has a second pipe to throw believing the hunter had cut his beard in retaliation for the beating he no doubt endured. He had witnessed him humiliate Raven by striking him on the back of the knee so it was not outside the realm of possibility that he had further humiliated him which would explain Raven’s intense anger that still threatened to overwhelm him. 

“We’ll make this quick then, shall we? As someone does not wish to be here.” The auctioneer jests though Raven does not find it amusing and by default neither does Bilbo. “Is there anyone here in attendance that claims this alpha as his One?”

“Me!” Bilbo calls out confidently and raises his hand for good measure. Raven had taken to looking around the room possibly considering escape routes before his eyes-blue-landed on the hobbit. The intensity in Raven’s eyes is almost frightening but Bilbo weathers the storm and stares right back hoping to convey that he was not cruel-hearted and that Raven was safe with him. 

The gavel strikes the sound block and the deed is done. Two more hunters come from the back and grab an arm each, pulling Raven to his feet and drag him backwards to the right door. Bilbo makes to follow and stops when he sees the abusing hunter making his way towards Raven. Bilbo stands in front of his alpha to intercept the hunter and is glad to see blood on his covering hand. 

“Step aside,” the foul-tempered hunter orders. 

“You step aside, Sir,” Bilbo answers back with false politeness. The hunter winces and lowers his hand from his eye and Bilbo is pleased to see it bloodied at the corner and swollen but is displeased to see his clay pipe broken on the floor. “That serves you right,” the hunter lurches forward threateningly but Bilbo holds his ground bolstered by the proximity of his One. “You will never lay a hand on him again. You are not fit to be a hunter; I suggest you find employment elsewhere.” The hunter turns then to eye the auctioneer worriedly but an Omega’s word is law and he merely shrugs in response. 

Whether it be for sheer devilment or he was merely posturing for his One, Bilbo kicks the distracted hunter at the back of the knee and delights as he collapses onto all fours. He turns to eye Raven and finds the dwarf with a matching grin but when their eyes meet Raven’s smile turns to a sneer as he is led away.


	5. Chapter 5

When Bilbo first arrived at Weathertop he had set tongues wagging. Hobbits were not known to travel further than their pantry and for the most part that was true. The Shire was self-sustainable and a hobbit was a creature of comfort and though they were of the earth they were so very far removed from it. It had taken some doing earning the acceptance of his fellow omegas as well as assimilating into their society and learning to disregard his own prejudices. 

Unfortunately, with the arrival of his One, Bilbo had set tongues wagging once more. Cenric and Oreldîr had left the village hall unescorted by a hunter though their intended omegas walked beside them a good few feet away. Raven was not quite as accommodating even as trussed as he was he fought as viciously as he could, snapping sharp white teeth and headbutting when the opportunity arose. It had taken five hunters of the race of men to contain him as it was futile for them to control him. In this they had asked for Bilbo’s assistance though he proved all but useless. Without an actual soul bond and not being in heat Raven would not submit to him, he’d answer to no call but his own and he had clearly chosen freedom. 

It was suggested that an omega currently in heat should be called for to quell Raven’s rage and reduce him to a docile alpha but Bilbo immediately quashed that notion. Jealously was a foolish emotion and though Bilbo knew they would only use the omega as a guide he could not bear to see his alpha look at anyone but him in lust. He knew his protests were unwarranted and he was naught but a thorn in the side for the hunters trying desperately to manage Raven without hurting him but he also knew that once they entered the building the fight would be over.

The Weathertop colony was a fortress, as well as Raven knew, hence his last ditch attempts at freedom. Once the doors closed behind him his old life was finished and he could no longer look behind but would have to look ahead. Bilbo felt guilty for the distress he was causing both Raven and the hunters however he stood by his own words, desperation makes monsters of us all. 

Once they entered the building, as predicted Raven’s temper simmered as the fight drained out of him. The anger was still present, a constant thrumming like a second heartbeat that felt like a deadweight in Bilbo’s gut but he consoled himself that at least for now the screaming had stopped. As a dwarf, drawn to gold and gems Raven did not seem to care for his opulent prison as he still shrugged off the hunters guiding hands and snarled potentially vicious things though no one could understand a word he was saying. 

Mostly under his own steam Raven made his way to Bilbo’s quarters only to recoil in horror. Bilbo could not see what had upset him, he only saw the hunters practically jump on him to subdue him and Bilbo realised then that Raven had seen the cell. Bilbo entered his room and flinched when he saw the hunters had his alpha prone on the floor as they worked diligently to release him of his chains. Once freed, one of the hunter’s held the cell door open while the other four went about lifting Raven, causing the dwarf so much stress it brought tears to Bilbo eyes. Dwarves should not be parted from the earth or manhandled, it was belittling to such a proud race and Bilbo wished to intervene but he knew he could not. There was only one way to cage the untethered dwarf, he knew it but it didn’t mean he had to like it. Still he forced himself to watch as the hunters carried Raven to the cage and flung him onto the bed. Raven leapt up immediately but the door was slammed and locked in his face though he tried the door regardless, mostly posturing to the hunters that had humiliated him. 

The hunters left immediately muttering curses and complaining about sores and Bilbo saw them out and was surprised to find his cousin stood at his door as he had quite forgotten about him. 

“Well I daresay I have become obsolete,” Drogo chuckled unoffended. 

“Cousin forgive me.”

Drogo shook his head. “Nothing to forgive,” he said with a smile. “Are you okay alone with that one?” 

Bilbo turned to find Raven pacing up and down near the bars. He gestured for his cousin to step back and he exited the room and closed the door behind him. “He’s mine,” he replied sounding like those possessive self-entitled omegas that he loathed. 

“Well he’s handsome, I’ll give you that and spirited and on that I’ll say no more.” Bilbo nodded knowing what Drogo was referring to but could not mention due to hobbit sensibilities. “Do what must be done and I’ll see you in the Shire very soon.”

Drogo turned to leave and Bilbo reached out to grab his arm. “You’re leaving?”

“Three’s a crowd, Bilbo and I said earlier I did not mean to stay. I have been given a bed for the night and I leave on the morrow, do not rouse yourself to see me off, rouse your alpha so you can come home.” Bilbo laughed at his cousin’s bold choice of words and slapped him on the back and watched him leave and walk down the stairs until he was out of sight. 

When Bilbo entered his room once more he found Raven sat on the bed yawning tiredly. Bilbo felt a rush of relief as Raven saw only him which was then followed by bone weary fatigue as his alpha dragged dirt-stained fingers down his face and hissed when he made contact with the cut above his eye. 

“I could clean that for you,” Bilbo offered, and slowly approached the bars when Raven ignored him. “Hi, hello, I’m Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins from the Shire. You were found in the Shire?” Bilbo needlessly asked as he knew the answer though Raven was not forthcoming. “We almost missed each other, I was in the Shire colony for forty-nine years waiting for you and you did come, in a fashion.” Raven had been caught in the Shire and would normally have been taken to the Shire colony however the Shire only accepted willing alphas so had Bilbo stayed he would have missed Raven. 

“Can I comb your hair? Is that not allowed? Is it a dwarven thing? Let me get you a comb and a towel, I’d really like to clean that cut before it gets infected. There’s mud caked beneath your nails, do you require a scrubbing brush?” Bilbo was babbling, he knew and he couldn’t stop as he was falling over himself to appease his alpha, who was pretending to ignore him but he saw the glance at his nails at the mention of them. 

Collecting a comb, wash cloth, hand towel scrubbing brush and towel, Bilbo pushed them through the bars and watched them fall onto the floor as Raven made no move to take them from him. “Raven’s a lovely name,” he whispered catching Raven’s eyes narrow. “Not your name though, is it?” Raven, for lack of another name merely stared at the pillows ignoring him. “What is your name?” 

The silence stretched between them. “Please don’t ignore me, I-I want to get to know you before my…er…before…” Bilbo paused finding it terribly hard to mention his heat. “So do not fear me touching you because I won’t…well I will-No!- With your permission, I mean. When the time comes, but now’s not the time, is it hot in here? I’m quite sure I can’t breathe.” Bilbo loosened his neckerchief to no avail and watched Raven bring one foot onto the bed to untie the binding of his furred boot.

Lost in his own world, Bilbo was startled when the boot went sailing through the air and smacked into the bars centimetres from his face. He scurried over to his own bed, glad to be away from the gloating dwarf and watched him stand from the bed and collect the items he had given him before moving over to the sink. There was no mirror in the cell for fear an alpha may smash it and use the shards to slash their wrists. There was no fear that an alpha may use the pieces for nefarious purposes as it was said an alpha was physically incapable of harming an omega. 

Bilbo merely watched as Raven dabbed his bruised and bloodied face with a damp washcloth, relying on the knowledge of his own visage to clean the skin and tend the wound. He made a poor job of it but the wounds were suitably cleansed and were not bleeding so they had potentially looked worse than they really were. Raven sat back on the bed scrubbing his short broken fingernails clean while Bilbo tried to think of ways to win the dwarf’s favour. 

Raven’s clothes were worn, torn and dirtied as the once navy robes seemed black but despite their current appearance Bilbo could see from the silver embroidery that they were once expensive. The thick silver belt around is trim waist was very telling too having been taken in more than it was meant to as Raven had lost weight. The gouges in the metal suggested there had once been many gems encrusted on his belt that he had undoubtedly been forced to sell along with his sword as there was an empty scabbard at his hip beneath the robe.

Remembering the auctioneer speaking of Raven’s thievery, Bilbo is overcome with joy that he goes over to the cage once more clutching the bars as he realises the way to Raven’s heart is through his stomach. He opens his mouth but only emits a hiss of pain as a second boot comes at the bars the heel of which catches his fingers.

“Ouch!” Bilbo cried angrily, pulling his hand away and looking at his reddened fingers. It seemed an alpha could hurt an omega after all. “I was going to offer you some food! I thought you might be hungry!” Raven said nothing though his stomach groaned in reply and Bilbo decided on revenge. “I was going to show you what I can offer you, I would have had a feast brought up. Ham, eggs, chicken, beef, pork, potatoes, pies, fruit, vegetables…there really is no end to my reach.” Raven clutched his stomach but said nothing. 

“Say you’re sorry,” Bilbo warned but Raven continued to scrub his fingernails. “Fine, starve then!” Bilbo hissed and walked back over to his own bed muttering about the stubbornness of dwarves. A grumble sounded over by the cage and Bilbo turned to call. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear you?”

“Sorry,” Raven spat out in distaste and Bilbo smiled victoriously. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? But because of your appalling behaviour you’ll have soup and bread and no more.” Bilbo pointedly stomped over to the door as if put upon and asked a hunter in the hall to bring up some soup. Though his words to Raven were cruel his intention was not. Raven was starved, his belly empty and hurting enough to drive him out of hiding during daylight so of course talk of food was appealing but to consume too much he would become sick. It was easier to have a light broth so he had something warm and easy on his stomach then he could have a good night’s rest and consider his own unreasonable behaviour. 

When the knock on his door came, Bilbo went over to open it and was greeted to the sight of a smirking hunter holding a tray with broth and half a loaf of bread. The ginger haired hunter passed the tray to Bilbo whilst trying to sneaks looks inside his room to take a look at his caged alpha. Bilbo immediately accepted the tray and set it down on a nearby table and started pushing the door closed should another hunter further upset Raven. 

“Guess you need that to keep your strength up, little one.” The hunter crudely winked and Bilbo looked over his shoulder worried that Raven had overheard. The alpha was staring at the wall which told Bilbo he had heard as he was trying too hard to feign ignorance. Usually one for politeness, Bilbo shut the door in the hunter’s face rather than have a second hunter lose his job this night. Collecting the tray, Bilbo walked over to the cage thankful that Raven was out of boots and he pushed the tray beneath the cell door and retreated to his bed once more. 

Raven was torn in two, filled with self-loathing as he glared at the soup as though it had personally offended him. Bilbo could feel the maelstrom in his mind but he could offer no assistance. Raven believed he had sold his soul for a bowl of soup and now incarcerated with said bowl of soup he had found it was a poor trade. Having folk make lewd remarks was also detrimental as they were objectifying Raven, stripping away his humanity layer by layer and treating him no better than a prized stallion out to stud. All of this impacted negativity on Bilbo and there was no reason for Raven to believe that Bilbo saw him as anything other than breeding stock. 

Finally, after realising the futility of his actions Raven collects the tray and takes it over to the bed. Ignoring the spoon, Raven lifts the bowl and starts to gulp down the broth despite Bilbo calling out to him to slow down. He is quite sure Raven drinks faster to spite him to prove he can’t be tamed. He may have contained a hurricane but he had not tempered the storm. 

After the broth, Raven picks at the bread clearly finding it dry and hard to swallow and if he were capable of regret Bilbo was sure Raven was currently regretting his spiteful actions. Though Raven had a nasty spiteful streak, he could see it with the narrowing of his eyes, a flare of his nostrils and a cruel twist of his lips. It was a spite born from the contempt he had for himself and combined with his own stubbornness he would cut off his nose to spite his face. 

“Would you like a drink?” Bilbo offered and endured another glare as though he had cast aspersions on his alpha’s mother. He could understand his partner’s fury as Raven did not wish to be beholden to him, he did not desire to lose his sense of self and be deemed property of an omega. 

Reluctantly Raven nodded and Bilbo sighed in relief. “Tea, water, wine or ale?” 

“Ale.” Bilbo smiled, appeased cherishing the two words he had received from his alpha as they were hard won. There was a barrel of ale in Bilbo’s kitchenette and he poured a tankard full and approached the cage and passed it through the bars with both hands, holding the handle and the side desiring to share a touch with his alpha. Raven approached cautiously and eyed the hobbit’s hands and took hold of the bottom of the tankard so they did not touch and he skulked off towards his bed with his amber prize. 

Bilbo merely watched him, sad that his alpha did not care to touch him. Still his alpha had spoken to him, of course ‘sorry’ and ‘ale’ did not make a conversation but Bilbo had hope for the first time since he could remember.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite having resided in Weathertop for little over six months Bilbo still found waking up a disorienting experience. He blinked repeatedly and tried to shake off the sense of displacement, which usually involved blinking back tears when he remembered his plight. Surprisingly his eyes were dry and the ache in his chest that plagued him daily was no more and for once he felt whole. 

Sitting up, Bilbo immediately turned his attention towards the cage and he covered his mouth, should he make a noise as Raven was laid on the bed asleep. Like Bilbo, he remained dressed except for his boots that he had thrown, and was lying on top of the covers. Bilbo quietly got up off the bed and sneaked up to the bars to shamelessly observe his One. He was laid on his left side curled in a loose foetal position with his hands guarding his rising and falling chest. Bilbo smiled when he caught sight of a piece of bread clutched in Raven’s left hand as though he was unwilling to part with it or only too willing to throw it at a certain someone. 

In sleep Raven’s features were softened and Bilbo could appreciate the length of his eyelashes, long and thick guarding cerulean eyes. His nose was long, aristocratic, large but not disproportionate and his lips seemed soft, a sweet curve of temptation that would undoubtedly be Bilbo’s undoing. He found them captivating when they were not twisted in a sneer and he enjoyed seeing the rose pink lips parted to emit each sweet breath. 

Bilbo was simply enchanted. He knew staring was rude and spying on his partner while he slept was worse but he could not help himself. Raven had done nothing with his hair since his incarceration and it lay sprawled out on the pillows caked in mud and other debris and Bilbo spied a bedraggled braid half unravelled behind his small ear. The size of Raven’s ears had surprised Bilbo as opposed to his large elf-like ears, Raven’s were small seashells in comparison. His feet were startling too, long for the race of men but child-size for a hobbit. His skin was alabaster against the black warg fur so his pale feet were crying out for Bilbo’s attention. The skin on his heels was discoloured and hardened revealing a life on the run with no respite. The arch of his foot was minute, which Bilbo deemed a dwarven feature as his dwarven friends all stomped around, flat-footed and proud. His toes were long with a patch of wiry black hair on each one though it was nothing like the thatch of hair on Bilbo’s feet that kept his feet warm in the winter months. 

Bilbo had to stop himself from reaching through the bars and cupping the gentle smooth curve of Raven’s ankle. He wanted to touch him to see if his skin was as soft as he imagined or hard as stone as it appeared. Bilbo shook his head and stepped away from the bars. He chose not to disturb Raven as the dwarf was exhausted and possibly hadn’t slept in a bed for many years. He had also over-exerted himself the day before as he was practically running on fumes but he was too proud and stubborn to submit even when all hope was lost. It was foolhardy but Bilbo could appreciate his conviction and his strength of character, he even admired it. 

On a normal day Bilbo would have breakfast at seven but one look at the clock on the mantelpiece dashed that dream. He was surprised to learn it was a little past ten making it too late for second breakfast and yet too early for elevenses. He rarely ever overslept and when he did it was only because that time was upon him and he would lock himself away and sulk without relief. This time Raven was the reason for his late rising as he simply could not look away from him. Despite Raven’s mean demeanour he never outright told Bilbo to stop looking and Bilbo thought or rather hoped that Raven liked his eyes on him. Bilbo certainly thought so as Raven made a show of drinking his ale, tossing his hair back exposing the long pale column of his throat so Bilbo could watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Raven never looked directly at him but he could tell he was sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye to confirm he still had an avid audience and he saw a brief twitch at the corner of his mouth which suggested a smile when he found that he had. 

Bilbo was unsure who succumbed to sleep first, as they had both faked sleep to spy on the other. Raven’s azure eyes seemed luminescent in the dark and there was something almost predatory in the way he watched Bilbo. Normally Bilbo would be unnerved by such behaviour but because it was Raven it was thrilling and the sense of danger that came with having Raven so close threatened to take Bilbo’s breath away. 

Bilbo had meant to change for bed, though his nightshirt was in the bathroom and he couldn’t find it in himself to leave Raven alone for a moment. He also had no desire to strip in front of his alpha and to reveal the extent of his arousal both in front and behind. He had heard stories that first encounters with an omega’s chosen alpha could trigger a chemical reaction and force an omega into a heat regardless of their cycle. He had feared that was the case as he felt secretion on the back of his thigh and he stayed on his bed as far away from Raven as he could stomach. 

Even now, with the call of food a fiery tempest in his gut he cannot summon the strength to leave. Instead he silently walks over to his writing desk the other side of the room and though his new position does not afford him a very good view of the cage he can see Raven’s pale feet and is suitably calmed. 

His work is as he had left it, a faint outline of a map marking the way between Bree and Weathertop. Bilbo liked to consider himself something of a cartographer as well as a genealogist though his heart was truly set on becoming an author. He’d had a few ideas for stories though nothing concrete and when he would try to write his quill would only hover above the parchment before the ink became dry and he would set it down again. 

He does not know what guides his hand as he sits for hours waxing poetic about every feature of Raven. Fortunately, his muse is none the wiser as he remains asleep and Bilbo can only shake his head at his own words reminiscent of a tween in the bloom of a first crush. He imagines Raven would not be impressed with his flowery words, comparing his eyes to cornflowers when he became incensed to morning glory when he was content chewing on bread. 

A groan of his stomach and Bilbo clutched his waist and cast worried looks towards the cage thankful that Raven remained undisturbed. He eyed the clock once more to find it was 2 pm and loath as he was to leave Raven he knew that by remaining in the room the sounds of his stomach would awaken him. So he left his chair and walked over to the door casting one last long lingering look at his alpha before leaving his room. 

What was once the mess hall in Weathertop was refurbished to look less militarized and remained a twenty-four-hour dining hall. Bilbo perused the ready-made food finding there was not much choice left after lunch and since he did not wish to inconvenience the staff, he selected a ham sandwich and took a seat beside a window overlooking the courtyard. Though his stomach pained him, Bilbo could only pick at his food as he felt uncomfortable being so far away from his alpha. He was told the feeling would pass once they became bonded but his cycle wasn’t due for three weeks and though a heat was unnecessary to form a bond Bilbo had always envisioned it so and was disinclined to give up his dream. 

Gazing out of the window, Bilbo smiled as he saw Bard playing with his three children. Sigrid, his eldest was stood a little way off, clapping her hands whilst his son, Bain was helping his little sister, Tilda hold a wooden sword and fight her father. Sigrid and Tilda were both blue-eyed and blonde-haired and shared no semblance to their father whilst Bain was of darker colouring and shared his father’s eyes. Bilbo can’t imagine how trying it must be for Bard to have his One that would not bond with him, though the ache must be eased a little with each gift of a child. 

Staring at the clock, Bilbo sees that he has wasted an hour and he collects his plate and returns it to the kitchens and asks for a plate of ham and eggs. He would wake Raven long enough to get some food down him and then he was more than welcome to go back to sleep. Accepting the food with thanks, Bilbo returns to his room unconsciously being quiet as he opens the door and sets the food onto the table and closes the door behind him. 

When he turns around his breath catches in his throat as Raven is awake and has washed his hair as the dark strands fall in loose ringlets down his back. Normally Bilbo would not have been so moved but the dwarf had shuck off his robes and stood only in leather trousers. Unsure where to look Bilbo diverted his gaze to the floor as he tried to conjure words that his mouth could not form. Movement in his peripheral vision caused Bilbo to look up through his lashes as Raven slowly walked up to the bars and raised his arms above his head holding on to the bars and leaning forward invitingly. 

Bilbo discreetly scented the air but there was no increase in pheromones which told him his alpha was not going into a rut. Bilbo stood his ground and merely gaped as Raven tilted his head, sending wet dark hair cascading down one shoulder as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. The sound Bilbo made in response was simply shameful and he soon found himself stood before the bars drawn in by Raven’s animal magnetism. 

Surprisingly Raven did nothing at his approach and merely gazed down at his own torso and looked back up as if giving Bilbo permission to look. Bilbo held eye contact with him for longer than strictly necessary before succumbing to temptation and eyeing the bare chest in front of him. He had been told that dwarves were hairy creatures but the only hair he could see was beneath his arms and a strip beneath his navel that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. His toned pale body was inked as was the way with dwarves. Upon his right forearm was the design of a geometric vambrace and further up there were several centimetre-thick black lines coiled around his biceps. The tattoo upon his left side was more elaborate, beginning at his elbow the geometric shapes encompassed the entirety of his upper arm and spread out across his left pectoral and three quarters of the way down his ribs where it fanned out across his back. Between the curves of the thick shapes were strange letters he had never come across before and he could only assume it was khuzdul, the secret language of the dwarves. Whatever had been written in the spaces nearest his heart had been gouged out by fingernails, the drag of which revealed they were self-inflicted and the scar tissue had deformed the geometric shapes around a dusky nipple.

Bilbo raises his head in question only to find Raven staring at him with a predatory gleam in his cornflower blue eyes and a grotesque smile on his lips that revealed his insincerity. A large hand reached through the bars and took hold of Bilbo’s throat in warning. 

“Let me out you miserable hobbit!” Raven hissed and Bilbo shook his head not to be contrary but to be sincere. Raven practically snarled at his rebuff and took perverse delight in tightening his grip around Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo grabbed his arm with both hands as Raven began to lift him revealing his brute strength as Bilbo was forced to tiptoe or he would dangle by his neck. 

When the panic sets in Raven drops him and retreats clutching his head in pain. Bilbo chooses not to gloat and instead rubs his neck pointedly despite his skin tingling because of his alpha’s touch. Raven glares at him and only too soon is back at the bars and dragging Bilbo forward by his waistcoat, tearing the fabric as he does so. He seems indecisive and wild-eyed as he stares at Bilbo panting heavily from exertion while Bilbo eyes the hand on his chest. The thick meaty fingers were clenched tight and Bilbo could see some discolouring around them suggesting they once wore rings, many and for a long time. It made Bilbo curious as to where Raven had been hiding. 

Changing his course of action, Raven pulled him closer to the bars and leaned down to kiss him through the bars. It was chaotic for a first kiss and rather unpleasant as Bilbo’s stomach, not overly large but plump was pressed against the cell. Deciding to save the disaster that was happening between them, Bilbo opened his mouth beneath Raven’s onslaught allowing the alpha’s tongue into his mouth as he reached through the bars and ran his fingers through Raven’s damp locks while his other hand ran over the gouges above his heart. 

Having Raven so close Bilbo could smell the dirt that still lingered on his skin and he breathed it in and was reminded of home. Bilbo wanted to close his eyes and get lost in the kiss and revel at the touch of a beard scratching against his smooth skin but he could not. Raven’s actions were insincere, his moans as Bilbo sucked on his tongue were false and his movements were rehearsed and unfortunately Bilbo knew desperation when he saw it and Raven’s actions stank of it.

Reluctantly Bilbo ended the kiss and dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away. He should have seen the ruse and not have enjoyed himself at Raven’s expense as he had thought himself better than those types of omegas. Raven remains by the bars unaware of his emotional turmoil as his lips are parted, red, wet and kiss-swollen awaiting Bilbo to plant another kiss on the sweet rosebuds. 

“No!” Bilbo shouts to his own thoughts and to Raven’s silent offer of sex for freedom. 

“Let me out,” Raven tells him as though aware his window of opportunity was rapidly closing. “I’ll give you what you want,” he promises moving his hands to the button of his trousers.

“What? No! No, no, no!” Bilbo shakes his head vehemently turning his face away should he see too much. “I’ve brought you some breakfast, you should really eat that before it gets too cold.” He retrieves the plate he left by the door and approaches the cage once more. 

“Hobbit…”

“Bilbo,” Bilbo interrupts.

“Hobbit,” Raven insists and Bilbo sighs defeated. “Open the door.”

“And what then?” Bilbo snaps. 

“Whatever you want, you have a nice big bed over there.” Raven offered and his deep voice was hypnotic seduction. Bilbo couldn’t help but look over to the bed and imagined drawing the curtains around it as he and Raven spent hours pleasuring each other. “Open the door,” Raven whispered knowing Bilbo was teetering on a knife edge. “I don’t bite, not unless you want me to.” Bilbo’s knees gave out and he fell to the floor desperately clutching the plate so not a single item fell to the floor. He pushed the food beneath the cell door before righting himself, red in face and struggling for breath. 

“Well, yes, ha, so I’ll just be going now…I’ve things to do, I’ll find you some clothes.” Bilbo spoke quickly whilst pacing edging closer to the door.

“Hobbit!” Raven growled in warning but his only reply was a slam of the door as Bilbo fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know what the proper etiquette is in regards to comments, whether I should reply or not. So I’ll take the time now to thank you for the comments, they are very much appreciated and are what keeps me going :)


	7. Chapter 7

Bilbo fretted outside his door for an unreasonable amount of time with a pile of Bard’s clothes by his feet and a large slice of chocolate cake on a plate in his hand as a peace offering. He was unsure of the welcome he would receive as he had run from Raven as though he were a bride forced to wed an orc. Raven hadn’t taken his exit well judging from the curses that followed him down the hall as he ran straight to the bathhouse to try to cool off. He hadn’t meant to leave so abruptly but the twisting feeling in his gut was a sign of his approaching heat which was not due and he realised Raven was triggering a chemical reaction that he was not comfortable with. 

Collecting what little courage he had, Bilbo opened the door and scented the air fearful that his potential heat could have set off a rut. He releases the breath he was holding as the scent has not changed and he enters the room. 

Raven is laid on his back on the bed, dressed once more in his dirty navy robes with his hands behind his head as he stares mindlessly at the ceiling. He does not react when Bilbo places the cake on the table but once Bilbo retrieves Bard’s clothes and shuts the door, Raven emits a groan of frustration and curls on his side sulkily. 

Unsure of what to do, Bilbo sets the clothes down and retrieves the cake once more. “I’ve brought cake,” he says rather too chirpily and immediately regrets his tone of voice. 

“Imrid amrâd ursul,” Raven growls in the same guttural way Gimli speaks when he became excitable. Bilbo took it as a good omen that Raven chose to address him in his own language rather than that of the birds he was named after, though he hadn’t a clue what was said. 

“Oh erm…no it’s not my birthday,” Bilbo replied as best he could but received no response from Raven. Bilbo was at a loss at what to do so he approached the cell and pushed the cake under it glad to see an empty plate beneath the bed proving Raven had eaten his late breakfast. 

“I’m sorry I left before,” Bilbo apologised believing Raven was upset because he had rebuffed his advances. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive because I do, you’re very attractive and too good for me.” Bilbo whispered self-depreciatively. 

“You’re right.” 

“Pardon?”

“I am too good for you, Omega.” Bilbo’s nose twitched as he took Raven’s words on the chin though he did not like the way Raven called him an omega as if that was all that he was. 

“Don’t mince your words,” Bilbo chided with a laugh to hide the hurt. 

“I won’t, now let me out you descendant of rats!” Raven hissed and sat up eyeing the door pointedly. 

“No!” Bilbo snapped back. “Descendant of rats now is it, Alpha?” Bilbo retorted using Raven’s own words against him. “What do you mean to accomplish by me opening the door? You are in an Omega colony surrounded by hundreds of hunters. I don’t doubt that you are a great warrior and your lion heart is admirable, truly, but even you would succumb to the sheer numbers.” Raven scoffed in response. “Oh you don’t think so, okay so you pass the hunters but you are in an omega colony and you are unbonded how far do you truly believe you could get before an omega in heat gets your scent? You’ll be their docile pet and you had run from me so you’ll be used as breeding stock because that is all that you are good for.” 

“Thank you,” Raven spoke softly with a solemn nod of his head taking the wind out of Bilbo’s sails. 

“For what?” Bilbo questioned since his words had been unreasonable and he hadn’t truly meant what he had said but Raven had a way of getting under his skin. 

“Showing me your true self. I almost shed a tear, poor misunderstood spoiled entitled omega.” 

“I am not your enemy,” Bilbo cried, almost clutching his hair in despair. 

“You are not my friend.” 

“Look, I know you doubt me and my sincerity towards you and yes what I just said was horrible and needlessly cruel. I shouldn’t have said it, I don’t believe it for a moment and I apologise.” Raven rolled his eyes in response. “You don’t believe a word of it, that’s okay, I understand, you don’t know me but in time I will prove myself. Let me prove myself. I have waited fifty years for you, I can wait a little longer.” Clearly having had enough of Bilbo’s words, Raven laid back down again and continued to stare at the ceiling. 

Bilbo retired to his own bed and sat at the end of it staring into the cell. He was unsure if he was making any progress with Raven since he was convinced every step forward was followed by two steps back. Still they ought to get to know each other and if Raven was not forthcoming then Bilbo would talk for the both of them. 

“Did you like the Shire? Did you visit Hobbiton? Upon the highest hill there is an oak tree and beneath that tree is a Hobbit Hole, I wonder if you have seen it. It has a name, Bag End and it was built by Bungo Baggins, my father, as a wedding gift to his wife, my mother, Belladonna Took.” 

“Fascinating,” Raven breathed out in boredom. 

“It’s an enviable smial, mine by birthright though I have not stepped foot inside the place since my parent’s passing. I did not feel as though I deserved it, it’s very large you see, many tunnels, designed for many children but I am all they had.” Bilbo paused expecting Raven to make a scathing comment but he remained quiet. “When I presented as Omega I realised then that it was a sign that Bag End was meant to be full of children and I waited, I waited so long for you. But now you’re here and once we are bonded we can go back to the Shire and claim Bag End as ours. Those rooms deserve to be filled, I will carry as many children as you give me.”

“Typical omega,” Raven spat distastefully. 

“What have I said to upset you now?” 

“What makes you think I want children?” Bilbo paused, stunned. The War had devastated the populace of Middle Earth, each race was on the verge of extinction before the Valar intervened and blessed their male children with their gifts. Omegas and Alphas were the chosen ones designed to bring in a new age of life and prosperity as it was foretold. The idea that an alpha did not wish to procreate shook Bilbo to his core as it went against everything he was told and believed in. 

“You do not wish for a son? An heir?” 

“What use have I for an heir? What could I possibly pass down? What more can be taken from me? I care nothing for children.” Bilbo listened intently and realised Raven was speaking falsely as there was pain in his words and he could imagine sadness etched on his face but Raven would not look at him. 

“Who hurt you?” 

“What?” Raven snapped, layering his nervousness with anger. 

“The name upon your breast,” Bilbo spoke softly. “It was a name,” he says mostly to himself as realisation slowly begins to set in. “Nearest your heart…it was an omega.” Bilbo eyes the floor when he realises the painful truth, that his alpha had loved an omega who in turn broke his heart. 

It was not unheard of having two people in love without a soul bond but their love would not be recognized and the alpha would not be safe. Soul bonds had been tried to be forced in years gone by to keep bloodlines pure though they had never taken. There was even talk of two alpha’s in love but their relationships were deemed wasteful and if captured they were sent to different colonies hundreds of leagues apart. 

“I am sorry that you were hurt and I can only say that I am not like him and I will not hurt you.” Perhaps it was bold considering he did not know who he was comparing himself to but Bilbo knew he would never be so careless with Raven’s heart. 

Raven climbed off the bed and approached the bars looking so downtrodden Bilbo’s heart physically ached. “You won’t?” Bilbo shook his head and approached the bars, placing his hands over Raven’s. 

“I promise.” He agreed and his lips met Raven’s as the dwarf leaned down and they shared a chaste kiss. Bilbo was lost in the moment having Raven’s lips pressed to his and sharing the same breath that he was hardly aware of Raven moving one of his hands, taking Bilbo’s hand in his until it was pressed between the dwarf’s legs. “Raven, no!” Bilbo broke the kiss and tried uselessly to pull his hand back. “Let go!” 

To Bilbo’s mortification Raven did no such thing and instead rubbed the hobbit’s hand against his growing arousal and pulled Bilbo closer so he could scent his neck. Bilbo’s protests became weaker as Raven’s tongue flicked out to lick his scent glands and he realised his hand was moving on its own volition between his alpha’s legs. 

“Do you want me?” Raven asked with his lips pressed against his ear and his moist breath sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine. Bilbo nodded dumbly, incapable of speech. “Do you want to go back to the Shire?” Raven asked, alternating between breathing against Bilbo’s neck and ear as though well aware both were erogenous zones. “To the highest hill,” Raven whispered seductively with his lips fluttering against Bilbo’s neck like a butterfly’s wing with every word. “To the home beneath the oak tree…” Raven cut himself off as Bilbo’s ministrations caused him to moan aloud and press eagerly into Bilbo’s touch. 

“To Bag End?” Raven recovered and pressed his teeth to Bilbo’s throat. Bilbo always imagined he would be bonded during a heat but Raven was a heat all of his own and feeling his alpha’s impressive length through his trousers Bilbo no longer cared for childhood fantasises. “You want children?” Bilbo nodded and moved his hand to the button of Raven’s trousers, stopping when Raven gently held his wrist. “But I don’t.” Raven hissed and flung Bilbo’s hand away. “You said you weren’t like him, you’re just like him. Selfish, duplicitous, moronic Omega!” Bilbo stared at Raven aghast as the dwarf turned on him again and unwilling to show his hurt he ran to the bathroom and slammed and locked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imrid amrâd ursul is what Thorin said to Thranduil in DoS and is neo-khuzdul. It was implied it meant “May you die in dragon fire” which would explain Thranduil’s response of “Do not talk to me of dragon fire.” However a more true translation is “Die a death of flames” – “Die a fiery death” which is the translation I went with.


	8. Chapter 8

Bilbo awoke with a crick in his neck having spent the night sleeping in the bathtub. It hadn’t been the best of ideas though Bilbo reasoned it was the lesser of two evils. He could not summon the courage to face Raven again, not after their false intimacy and Raven’s callous accusations that were unfortunately true but not as crass and self-indulgent as Raven made it sound. 

Bilbo was at a loss for what to do as Raven was determined to shoot down any idea he had about their shared future just to be contrary. Raven was desperately clinging onto a past that was lost to him and instead of acknowledging this unfortunate truth he had decided to paint Bilbo as the enemy and dump the blame squarely on his shoulders. It also didn’t help that there was an element of truth in what he was saying, but there was also truth in Bilbo’s argument which would see them at loggerheads with one another. 

Bilbo needed advice. He made use of the bathroom and brushed his teeth and tried to straighten the worst of the wrinkles on his torn waistcoat to little avail. There were clean clothes in the next room but there was also an irate dwarf that Bilbo did not want to tangle with. He was once fastidious with his hygiene and clothing but now he was willing to take a knock on his reputation just to escape his alpha. 

Opening the bathroom door cautiously, Bilbo poked his head out but could only spy the bars of the cell being so far away. Exiting the bathroom, Bilbo crept along the carpeted floor towards the door without a sound. Unable to help himself he looked over his shoulder to find Raven laid on the bed. His arms were clenched too tightly across his chest for him to be asleep and his whole aura radiated unhappiness as he deliberately ignored Bilbo. Bilbo’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he crept out of the room like a thief in the night burdened by the upset he had caused his alpha. 

Unsure of the time Bilbo ventured to the mess hall knowing sooner or later a friendly face would arrive and they could talk. Surprisingly he was not hungry as Raven’s melancholy had affected his appetite and though the thought of alcohol was a welcomed one, he declined knowing his low tolerance and feared how that might be exacerbated by an empty stomach. 

Bilbo spends quite a substantial amount of time in the hall at the far table in the back corner tracing his finger over the grain in the wood before a familiar face shows up. He stands up abruptly and waves far too enthusiastically at the dwarf that entered the hall. Bofur stopped, grinned and waved back before jerking his head towards the buffet and Bilbo nodded and waved him on. 

In truth Bilbo had not been expecting to see Bofur, as he had not seen him since he returned from a fruitless hunt and locked himself away to endure his heat. He watches the dwarf pile his plate high and crack jokes with the staff, pausing in his quest for food to sing a little ditty. Bofur was always breaking out in song, it was what had drawn Bilbo to him in the first place as he was so approachable and carefree unlike the walking thunderstorm he had locked in his bedroom. 

A brief dance and a collection of chicken wings later Bofur makes his way over to him, smiling merrily with his woollen hat atop his head the flaps of which quirked upwards as always. “Alright Bilbo?” Bofur greets and sets down his plate and takes a seat on the opposite bench. “You not eating?” Bofur asks whilst grabbing a chicken wing and biting into the flesh. “I’m famished,” he adds with his mouth full and grease staining his lips. 

Bilbo watches him eat for some time not wanting to interrupt knowing how hungry he became after a heat. He was still unsure if Bofur was the correct person to talk to as he was hoping for Bard or Gimli and though he kept watch, neither of them showed. 

“Soooo,” Bofur dragged out the word and dropped a bone stripped of meat onto his plate. “Why the enthusiastic welcome? Can’t imagine ye missed me that much.”

“I wanted to be the first to tell you,” Bilbo began and Bofur sat forward, curious. “I have an alpha.” Bofur’s smile is genuine and for that Bilbo is grateful. 

“I lock myself away for five minutes and the world seemingly changes. Wait, if you have an alpha why are you sat across from me and not in your room sat on him?” 

“Bofur!” Bilbo hissed, cheeks burning. 

“Is he hideous?” Bofur pressed.

“No.”

“Fat then? Huge like my brother Bombur, you’ve met him, right?” 

“Yes I’ve met your brother; he would not stop hugging me after I gave him the recipe for pigeon pie. In answer to your question, no Raven is not fat.” His mind briefly strays to pale washboard abdominals and sharp hips he longed to get his legs around. 

“Raven? Always thought you’d end up with an elf.” Bofur interrupts his rather lewd thoughts and he is glad of it. 

“He’s not an elf,” he replies and Bofur simply stares fishing for more details. “He’s a dwarf.” 

“Well, blow me, Master Baggins,” Bofur exclaims and then sobers. “Aye but it does make sense since you befriended all the dwarves in this colony.” Bilbo hadn’t really thought of that though there was truth in it. Dwarves tended to be only a foot taller than himself and equally overlooked and underfoot that he shared an affinity with them. “Still, why do you sit with the wrong dwarf?” Bofur pondered twisting his handlebar moustache around a finger. “Is he dwarfish in the weapon department?” 

“No!” Bilbo snapped scandalised for being asked and scandalised on Raven’s behalf. 

“How do you know?” Bofur asked cheekily, raising his eyebrows with a devious smile on his lips. 

“I just do.”

“How big?” 

“I’m not about to tell you that!” 

“Spoil sport, have a heart Bilbo, I just wanna live vicariously through you.” Knowing Bofur would not let the matter rest, Bilbo discreetly held his hands apart in the measurement of what he felt the night before and quickly dropped his hands to the table. “Well with a weapon like that, I suppose you can forgive him for being hideous.” 

“He’s not hideous, he’s…he’s beautiful, absolutely stunning.” 

“By my beard, somebody is in love.” Bofur teased good naturedly. 

“Unfortunately it is only one of us,” Bilbo answered, downtrodden. Bofur reached across the table and took his hand in his and Bilbo managed a weak smile. 

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Believe me, it is. He called me an omega in a derogatory sense and said that I was selfish and duplicitous and moronic.”

“Well that doesn’t sound like you at all. Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand him?” 

“He said it to my face, he ripped my waistcoat too.” Bilbo pointed to the torn material at his shoulder. “And called me a descendant of rats while trying to choke me.” Bilbo dropped his head in his hands unsure if he should mention the kisses they shared. “I don’t know what to do, Bofur. I don’t like who I am when I’m with him.” 

“Well…er…this isn’t really my area of expertise or nothing, but I’ll give it a go. How do you feel when you are around him?” 

“Alive.” Bilbo answered instantly. “Invincible, like I could take on an army of orcs.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” 

“It should be. I imagine myself saving him from the foul things but as I turn in victory he cuts me down himself, with words or a look. He knows my weakness, because it’s him and he uses sex as a weapon and his kisses are heavenly poison that even as I lay dying at his feet I would beg for another.” 

Bofur opened and closed his mouth, perplexed. “Sounds like you need to treat ‘im with a firm hand. Stop treating him like he’s your equal because he’s not. Don’t ask him what to do, tell him what to do. He’ll thank you for it in the end.” 

“I can’t do that, Bofur. I couldn’t do that to him since he’s lost so much already.”

“Well he’s not getting it back and you letting him think he can is a disservice to him. He’s yours, whoever and whatever he was before is over, you need to make him understand that because he’s running rings around you and treating you like a fool.” 

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “A firm hand?” He questioned finding some truth in Bofur’s advice. 

“That, or give him to Alfrid Lickspittle for an hour.” Bilbo cringed imagining Alfrid’s sour breath ghosting against his alpha’s skin before the cretin kissed him. “That’ll soon set him right, personally I’d give him to Alfrid for the whole day considering the upset he has caused you. He’s no right, Bilbo, none. You warn him, bring Alfrid with you, let him paw him with sweaty grabby hands.”

“For a kindly dwarf there is something of an orc inside you.” Bilbo observed. 

“I just don’t like to see my friend’s hurt, is all.” Bofur paused. “I know you think there is equality between alphas and omegas but there really isn’t. I’m not saying abuse him, I can’t stand omegas like that but he has a place and he’s not in it, so put him in his place.” Bilbo nodded but he was not sure he could do what was asked of him. “Just remember he might act all high and mighty now but before long your scent will change and you will see how the mighty fall.” Bilbo couldn’t find fault in Bofur’s logic as it was true. Bilbo had hoped for a mutual understanding but if he could not accomplish that then he would simply let nature take its course. 

“Thank you, Bofur, you’ve been a great help.” Bilbo stood up and Bofur followed. 

“Glad to be of service now I’m off to get more chicken but remember if he gives you anymore trouble, give him to Alfrid.” Bilbo laughed off his disgust and exited the mess hall with the same mantra playing over and over in his mind, kind but firm. 

Raven is brushing his teeth by the sink when Bilbo storms into the room and marches up to the bars. Kind but firm. “You and I will be bonded and you will accompany me to Bag End.” Bilbo stated resolute and Raven merely stared at him, before rinsing out his mouth and wiping his face. 

“Will I?” Again he chose to be contrary and Bilbo clenched his hands into fists. 

Kind but firm. “You are the sum of your omega and you will do your duty.” 

“I am the sum of you? Oh joy, I’ve always wanted to be a grocer.” 

“You will cease your barbed comments and I’m not a grocer.” Bilbo should not have replied to the grocer comment but Raven was impossible to deal with. 

“You’re making an awful lot of demands, hobbit. I don’t think you know who you are talking to.” Bofur’s words come to mind and Bilbo realises he has been doing a disservice to Raven as he was convinced he was once someone and the terrible truth is that he was no one and he needed to be disabused of that notion. 

“I am talking to no one. You are no one. You exist solely because I exist.” If looks could kill Bilbo would surely be dead. “You are tasked with one duty on this earth, to procreate, with me. We are no more than our duties as the Valar decreed and I am as much yours as you are mine. Perhaps when we are bonded you will understand that I was made for you and you were made for me. Please do not shy away from my love and do not hold me accountable for things out of my control.” 

“We’ll be bonded?” Raven asked and approached the bars and out of reflex Bilbo stood back. “You want me to bond with you?” Bilbo did not reply as Raven liked to torture him with his heart’s desires. “Maybe I want to bond with you too,” he lied so beautifully Bilbo could almost believe him. “I will, no heat required, I will bond with you with my senses intact.” There was a catch, there was always a catch. “I will voluntarily bind us together for all eternity on one condition.”

Bilbo sighed annoyed but he couldn’t help but be fished in by Raven’s words. “What condition might that be?”

“Help me reclaim my homeland and bestow that upon me which is rightfully mine.” Bilbo could not fathom if Raven spoke in jest. 

“Did a dragon take it from you?” Bilbo asked convinced Raven was spinning him a story and would ask the impossible of him. 

“Worse,” Raven responded, seriously. “It was an omega.” Bilbo simply stared at Raven unsure if there was any truth in his words. To Bilbo, the dwarf sounded mad and his story seemed fabricated and yet the way he told it…it may not be true but Raven certainly thought it was. 

“If an omega stole your home you cannot win it back.” Bilbo spoke reasonably wanting to give Raven peace of mind on his fantastical story. Raven’s eyes narrowed in response and he moved away from the bars to sit on his bed and face the wall, dismissing Bilbo. “The rights of an omega outweigh the rights of an alpha. I wish to help but an alpha is the sum of their omega and my homeland is the Shire so I can only give you Bag End and title of beloved.” There was no response. “We cannot wage war, to slay an omega is to be put to death without trial.” 

Raven clearly deemed their conversation finished so Bilbo sat on his bed in despair. He would not threaten Raven with Alfrid but he would subject him to the truth. “Before long my scent will change and I long to be irrevocably yours but before that time I want your permission. Will you bond with me or force nature to take its course?” 

“You think me weak,” Raven growled. 

“I think you’re an alpha,” Bilbo replied smartly. 

“I don’t give you permission, I have no desire to be burdened with a halfwit hobbit like you!” 

“Fine, though I don’t find you very splendid yourself!” Deep down Bilbo wanted to flee and curl in a dark corner but he chose to stand his ground. This was his room and Raven was the interloper. 

Walking over to his wardrobe, Bilbo shrugged off his waistcoat and held it aloft the laundry basket before deciding against it and folded the material instead. If he sent it to be cleaned it would undoubtedly be mended and he had no desire to fix a tear that proved, if only for a moment, that his alpha had desired him.


	9. Chapter 9

Days turned into weeks and Raven had not spoken a word to him though he appeared less hostile which Bilbo believed was largely due to a full belly. After the first few days Bilbo went back to his daily routine of having seven meals brought to his room throughout the day the only difference being that two meals arrived instead of one. 

Raven had looked flummoxed when he was given a second breakfast at nine am and shocked further still by afternoon lunch at one pm since he had elevenses. By the time supper arrived at nine pm Raven was full but he did not reject the food, in fact afterward he had collected the cutlery in his room and set it all on a tray and pushed it beneath the door to be cleaned. 

Since Raven chose not to communicate there was very little he could do in his cell and Bilbo found him more than once pressed against the bars trying to see the clock. He had wondered why at first until a knock sounded on his door announcing the arrival of food and he realised Raven was living his life around meal times, a rather hobbit thing to do. 

Bilbo would not describe Raven as a fussy eater as he would eat anything put before him. However, when it came to scones Raven would dissect the pastry and launch raisins at Bilbo throughout the day. It had become quite bothersome since he would attack unprovoked and heaven forbid Bilbo should ignore Raven’s cries for attention. He’d done that once and woke to regret it as Raven had thrown his entire supply of raisins at him while he slept and peeling dried fruit from his skin in the morning had not been pleasurable. 

Raven had never thrown raisins when they were in his cashew raisin rice pilaf or his apple and raisin oatmeal, or the few time they came in the salad or a pie. So Bilbo had begged the staff to deliver cherry scones instead and when they were delivered he spent the day pulling cherries out of his hair that Raven had flicked at him. 

It was schoolboy behaviour but deep down Bilbo enjoyed it only because it showed Raven was thinking of him. It could almost be considered sweet if he were aware of Raven’s motives. The dwarf painstakingly withdrew every raisin placing them in a bowl he had not given back just to randomly throw them at Bilbo. His aim was annoyingly always true and if Bilbo would choose to rise above it he’d be pelted with two more in quick succession until he looked at Raven. That seemed to be all the dwarf wanted, his attention for a fraction of a second because he would then shrug and act innocent. 

For the past two days Raven’s behaviour had notably changed. There had been no projectile from his cell after receiving a scone in the morning and his meals only had a few bites taken from them but had mostly been pushed around the plate. He was also cleaning himself constantly. Bilbo had thought it was because the clothes he wore were dirty and made him feel unclean until he watched Raven wash his hair, dry it, comb it, braid it, unravel it, comb it and wash it again. He’d never seen such behaviour like it before, it was as if the dwarf was…preening was the best way to describe it. 

Another thing Bilbo found was Raven’s eyes followed him around the room. Raven had always been hyperaware of him, as he was hyperaware of Raven as it was an extension of their bond. Only the looks he now received were weighted with anticipation as a predator watched its prey and Bilbo realised then it was not Raven looking at Bilbo but an alpha staring at his omega. 

Bilbo’s heats had always been regular like clockwork so it came as little surprise when he awoke to the hollow feeling in his stomach. He’d turn to find Raven pacing restlessly in his cell and he was rather surprised to realise Raven had been affected by his impending heat two days prior. He had always believed that a rut was the result of a heat but Raven’s body was attuned to his by being his intended and so Bilbo assumed since they were hyperaware of one another it was another extension of their bond. 

Bilbo had felt no desire to dress as was the usual case when he was going through a heat. His anger would boil and he would become irritable while his tolerance for the general population plummeted. It was not so for all omegas as for some the call to be bred was bothersome and the lack of alpha breeding stock made for a very unpleasant heat. Bilbo had heard that there were items that resembled a certain part of an alpha’s anatomy to help an omega during a crisis though he had never seen one nor had a use for one. He was lucky in that regard, as his heat was a stomach ache at best and though his hole was wet he had never had to resort to self-abuse. 

Bilbo found that with Raven in close proximity his mood had not soured and in fact he felt almost giddy having a virile alpha so temptingly near. Raven however, was irritated as he paced and tried to cover his nose and mouth as Bilbo’s scent had changed and was driving Raven away to bring the alpha to the forefront of his mind. It was a hopeless struggle though Raven tended to disregard the odds and he fought against his very nature. It was a curious sight to behold but sad all the same because despite Raven’s best efforts the writing was on the wall and he couldn’t escape fate. 

As interesting as the struggle was it was detrimental to Bilbo’s self-esteem and he did not wish to see Raven tear himself apart just so he would not mate with him. Instead he left the safety of his bed and sat at his writing desk perusing the maps he had drawn. The Great East Road was all but finished so he took his time sketching the hills in the South Downs and those north of the Weathertop colony. 

He was shading in the trees in Trollshaws when a peculiar sound came from the cell, one he could not name. He placed the charcoal upon the table and looked towards the cell though he was limited in what he could see due to his position. A few moments later he saw one large pale hand grip one of the bars and then the other appeared clutching the third bar along. The smell hit him next, a heady aroma of an alpha in rut. The scent seemed to encompass his entire being offering him comfort and safety as if the dwarf himself had wrapped him in his strong arms. Bilbo had been told not all alpha’s scents were the same so he breathed in deeply smelling leather, earth and fire and something uniquely Raven. It was a powerful masculine musk that was not overwhelming but strong and irresistible like Raven himself. 

Bilbo lifted the charcoal and continued to shade the trees. Raven had fought so valiantly to stave off nature so Bilbo would offer him the same. His designs on Raven went beyond that of procreation, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him so if he too must fight an unwinnable fight then he would so, gladly. 

He’s almost done when he hears a low keening coming from the cell. He lifts his head and finds Raven pressed tightly against the bars staring directly at him. The moment their eyes meet Raven offers him the most beatific smile he had ever seen and he was glad he was seated for surely such a look would have weakened his knees. 

“I’m doing this for you,” Bilbo told him and attempted to shade a few more trees. He was considering drawing a brief outline of the Misty Mountains when the groaning of metal caught his attention and he looked up to find Raven aggressively pulling on the bars. “You stop that right now.” Raven did no such thing and realising he had Bilbo’s undivided attention he bodily knocked into the cell door to force it open. “Raven!” Bilbo insisted and stood up disliking being ignored. 

It all seemed to be a game to Raven as he did it once more with a smile on his face. Bilbo marched over to the cell with a set look of disapproval but Raven was unmoved. Instead his hands went to his thick silver belt and he unbuckled it and allowed it to fall to floor with a thud. He shrugged off his navy robe next revealing a tattered navy undershirt that was beyond saving and fit solely for the bin. 

Lost in his thoughts Bilbo was assaulted with said shirt thrown in his face. It was caked in dirt and soaked with sweat which would normally disgust Bilbo but the scent was heavenly and he breathed deeply before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. Raven was by the bars again when he looked up, his toned chest pressed flush against the bars the coldness of which had forced his nipples to tighten into harden buds. Bilbo’s mouth watered at the sight and he shook his head remembering his promise. 

Bilbo started to retreat when Raven made those heart-breaking keening sounds again. He knew Raven would hate himself for making such noises but the creature currently residing in the cell was not Raven and his denial of the alpha was proving nothing to someone who was no longer there. Discarding his robe onto the bed, Bilbo collected the cell key and walked over to the cell eyeing Raven seriously.

“Please don’t hate me more than you already do,” he nigh on begged as he turned the key and opened the door. Raven remained by the bars as Bilbo entered the cell and he watched the alpha smile so carefree and look at him so trustingly with wide crystal blue eyes. “One day I will earn your trust and you will look at me as you do now and I will be rewarded with every single smile you gift me.” Raven continued to smile, oblivious to what had been said and he stepped closer reading invitation in Bilbo’s eyes. “And you will know that you are loved by me and I will love you so absolutely that you would never once question my devotion to you.” 

Not knowing what more to say, Bilbo pulled his nightshirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor before moving over to the bed. Raven watched with interest and quickly kicked off his boots as his hands went to the button of his trousers. Bilbo climbed onto the bed and rested his head on the pillows self-conscious but comforted by being surrounded by his alpha’s scent. He heard Raven’s heavy leather’s hit the floor and he looked up, preventing himself from looking between Raven’s thighs. He would not do that, despite what they were about to do he would offer Raven some privacy.

The alpha shamelessly stared between Bilbo’s legs and licked his lips in anticipation but he would not act without prompting or permission. An alpha may have base animal instincts but they were not savages and could not enforce their will or themselves on an omega. That was why no alarms were raised when an omega went missing on a hunt because whatever the omega endured would be consensual. 

Bilbo nods and spreads his legs and Raven quickly scrambles onto the bed to crawl between his thighs. Feeling nervous Bilbo sits up and cups Raven’s jaw in his right hand while his left cards through thick soft hair. “This is my first time,” he whispers and presses a brief kiss to Raven’s parted lips. “I trust you,” another kiss and he realised the futility of his words. “You are so gorgeous,” Bilbo delivered a bite to Raven’s full lower lip before laying back down trying to quell his quaking limbs. 

Raven crawled over him with his hands braced over Bilbo’s shoulders and his long hair pulled to one side spilling down his right arm. Bilbo hadn’t really acknowledged the size difference between them but now with his legs parted obscenely wide and Raven looming over him like an all-powerful God he can hardly think of anything else. The irony is not lost on him as he realised he was dwarfed by Raven’s stature but even pressed firmly against the mattress by Raven’s bulk Bilbo does not feel insignificant. In the presence of such majesty Bilbo feels powerful as the strong beautiful creature above him bends to his will with the slightest touch or the barest hint of a smile. It is both thrilling and dizzying, a chemical imbalance induced by their genders and exacerbated by the heat and Raven’s glorious naked body above him. 

Raven’s right hand moves from its position and glides down Bilbo’s flank, warm and rough from smithing. It moves with utter surety as though Bilbo’s body was malleable metal that arched into his scorching touch and bent to the whims of the master of metal. When his hand reaches his hip, Bilbo takes a steadying breath before Raven’s hand reaches beneath him and takes a firm hold of his posterior and cants his hips. Bilbo’s thighs were further parted by the action and his legs found purchase around the groove of Raven’s hips as though they were made for his legs to be wrapped around them. 

The moment Bilbo feels the head of Raven’s erect cock pressing against his open wet hole he slings an around Raven’s broad shoulders and brings the alpha down to him, chest and chest and nuzzles against his neck. There the alpha’s scent is most potent beside the jugular vein that thrummed with life and the promise to produce more life. The scent soothed his terrified omega heart as his alpha slowly pushed inside him, taking him slowly in one fluid motion. 

Bilbo did not know why he was so afraid. His body was designed to take his alpha’s cock and there was no fear of being hurt as his body self-lubricated increasing his scent to inspire an alpha to mount him. He supposes he had just listened to one too many of Bofur’s bawdy stories of horny alpha’s mounting shy fawning omegas and having their wicked way with them. He does not know why he even listened but at night the stories proved popular among the omegas who were not as sheltered as Bilbo and could appreciate a made-up tale and not read further into it as Bilbo clearly had. 

Raven begins to rock his hips and Bilbo realises his worry was for nothing. He had seen Raven fight and was aware of what his alpha was capable of but towards him his alpha was considerate and gentle even as Bilbo refused to release his hold and his nails had pierced his alpha’s meaty shoulder. Bilbo tried to release him but he could not bring himself to, he wanted to be engulfed by him and owned so completely. He wanted to breathe in Raven’s scent as the alpha kissed and nibbled on the apple of his throat as his cock filled him, but what he wanted most of all was his alpha’s knot and a soul bite.

In the Shire bonding with your mate was just as important as your first born, a lesson that seemed to be overlooked beyond the Shire. There he was taught to forgive an alpha for their rut because they became mindless animals duty-bound by the Valar themselves. Although Raven did not appear to be mindless even when he stood at the bars looking so painfully beautiful that it hurt to look at him. Even now with a steady thrust of his hips his actions are slow and measured, calculated, beyond an alpha -in-rut’s capabilities. 

Curiosity made him drop his arm from around his alpha’s shoulders and he cupped his jaw instead, feeling the thick bristles of his beard stab into his hand as he tilted his head up. Raven’s eyes remained crystal blue, content and trusting though his smile was not as full but still present. Perhaps the elders were wrong and a rut affects alpha’s differently, after all the Ranger that had surrendered had stood in a room full of admiring omegas and kept control and pointed out his One. 

Raven turns his face and presses a kiss to the palm of his hand before he moves down and scents his neck. Bilbo’s legs tighten around Raven’s waist and his hands explore his back as his alpha steadily presses into him savouring every thrust as does the hobbit beneath him. Sex was a taboo subject in the Shire, heats and ruts were acknowledged as duty and anything beyond that was not. Duty was duty, the act of a heat induced rut was to reproduce and no mention of pleasure was made. In fact, the first time Bilbo became aware that sharing a heat could be pleasurable was when he arrived in Weathertop and heard an overly loud omega brag about their night with breeding stock from Dale.

Bilbo was not the bragging kind, though given the opportunity he would have a few tales to tell to rival any and all of Bofur’s bawdy stories. He would start with how his heart was fit to burst and how his loneliness was swallowed by the sheer magnitude of his alpha. He would tell them how he was floored by the magnificence of his alpha and fell onto his back with relish. He would speak modestly of Raven’s gorgeous naked body and how his legs parted on instinct as his thighs became damp with his own slick as his body welcomed its alpha. He would tell of his trepidation of the penetration and how the pain and discomfort he had anticipated never came to fruition, instead he only felt complete. He could tell them so much, he could but he would not. What he shared with Raven was private and none of their concern. 

Feeling the knot swell at the base of Raven’s cock, Bilbo clutched his alpha’s hair and pressed his head firmly against his neck encouraging him to bite. Raven’s thrusts became short and sharp no longer calculated but desperate as the alpha sought to breed his mate. The knowledge alone made Bilbo’s cock leak with pre-cum as it stood erect and trapped between both their bellies. Bilbo was mewling and murmuring such shameful nonsense as Raven continued to assault a bundle of nerves on each thrust. His wits were dulled and mind a mess with each jab and the friction against his cock became his undoing, as with a cry he spent his seed between them covering both their chests. The alpha did not seem to mind as his knot continued to expand and he licked Bilbo’s neck appreciatively while making content noises of his own. Bilbo doubted Raven would be pleased, he’d take one look at his torso and throttle the hobbit and possibly throw him off the battlements if given half a chance. 

“Bite,” Bilbo whispered, encouragingly as Raven’s thrusts faltered and his hips stilled as he filled the omega with his seed as his knot had expanded to the fullest and kept them locked together. “Bite,” Bilbo insisted with mounting frustration but Raven would only press his mouth to the scent gland and no more. 

Bilbo dropped his arms from the alpha in a sulk as his dreams were dashed. Still his heat would last three more days so there were plenty more knots to endure which meant plenty of opportunities for his dreams to come true.

Having tired himself, Raven lowered himself on him and Bilbo struggled beneath his weight as his alpha covered him entirely. “Raven, no, bad alpha!” Bilbo admonished trying to push the alpha away. With a sigh, Raven sat up pulling Bilbo with him and depositing him on his lap as his cock was still hard and knotted inside him. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Raven’s neck and kissed the half-moon indents on his shoulder thankful to find he had not broken the skin. After soothing the wound with his tongue and luxuriating in the scent of his alpha Bilbo faced his alpha and allowed Raven to press their foreheads together. Bilbo did not know what the action meant but Raven seemed pleased as they stared into one another’s eyes. Bilbo imagines he was smiling just as much as Raven as he stroked his alpha’s cheek in wonderment silently thanking the Valar for his alpha. He could not turn his eyes away from his One and he watched as the crystal blue eyes darkened to cornflower blue before he was roughly forced onto his back.  


“Raven?” He questioned, stunned that the alpha had lost control and the foul-tempered dwarf was back.  


“Hobbit,” Raven returned and captured Bilbo’s wrists and held them above his head in one hand. Bilbo gasped as Raven experimentally rolled his hips before finding a brutal rhythm to fuck him into the mattress. Raven was more alpha than his actual alpha and Bilbo simply laid back and endured as his arms were held and his legs were splayed and aching. His cock twitched with interest between his thighs but he was too weak and sensitive to climax again. Raven’s renewed stamina was a welcomed surprise to Bilbo as he thought the dwarf may need some respite and given that Raven was now aware of his actions he hadn’t considered being taken again so soon. 

He wondered how much control Raven truly had as Raven stroked his cheek with his unoccupied left hand similar to what he had done to the dwarf. His thumb ghosted across Bilbo’s lower lip as he stared at the hobbit, clearly enticed by his mouth. Becoming bold, Bilbo licked the pad of Raven’s thumb and was unsurprised when he felt it press against his lips once again. Using his tongue, Bilbo drew it into his mouth and began to suck encouraged by Raven’s strangled cry and the renewed vigour of his pounding hips.

Bilbo had not realised he had closed his eyes but when he opened them Raven was closer than before, lips parted and breath ghosting against Bilbo’s skin. With his thumb still within Bilbo’s mouth, Raven lessened the distance between them and pressed their lips together. Bilbo’s loyalty was divided as he sucked on Raven’s thumb and then changing tactic he drew the dwarf’s tongue into his mouth. Raven kissed him thoroughly as an alpha claiming his omega though it was said an alpha did not kiss during a rut as they simply were not coherent enough to do such a thing. 

With a bite to his lip, not his neck much to Bilbo’s chagrin, Raven climaxed a second time. Bilbo felt the cock inside him weaken but the knot did not reside and Raven was forced to remain kneeling over him despite his fatigue as he had been reprimanded for resting on top of him. Bilbo longed for the dwarf’s lips to be pressed to his but Raven would not comply and became irritable when Bilbo touched his hair or gazed at him for too long. 

After what felt like an eternity but was most likely ten minutes, Raven’s knot began to shrink enough for the dwarf to pull away and lay on his side. Bilbo pressed himself against his back and pressed kisses to his shoulder and upper arm.

“That was my first time,” Bilbo reiterates as before he was talking to the alpha who could not understand and knowing how territorial alpha’s were, Bilbo assumed Raven would be elated with the news. “It was everything I could imagine and more,” Bilbo whispered in his ear and saw that Raven’s eyes were closed and his breathing had slowed as he had succumbed to sleep. “I know you will give me many children and they’ll be strong and beautiful, just like you.” Bilbo pressed a kiss to the back of Raven’s neck and moved down his back. “I would love to see your skin sun-kissed, my bronzed God working in the field, scythe in hand and shirt off, putting all hobbits to shame with your gorgeous physique. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, work that is, I have a spacious garden; you could sun yourself there while our children frolic in the grass.” Bilbo paused after noticing faint scaring around his mid-section. The semi-circle of puncture marks were suspect and Bilbo had an inkling to what it could be and looked at Raven’s stomach and saw the same faint markings. “You have been in the wars, what bit you?” He ghosts his fingers along the scars and Raven huffs a laugh in a sleepy haze, tickled by the touch and rolled onto his back. 

Bilbo smiled, amused and means to do it again when his eyes fall upon another scar and his blood ran cold. The scar is old, a thin line and neat suggesting a single stab with a blade on his left side above his pelvis. Had it been a little more to the right it would have proven fatal and Bilbo wanted to scream no matter how old the wound was. He feels sick to his stomach that someone had dared to kill an alpha and more so because it was his alpha they tried to sentence to death. Regardless of public opinion, a direct attack on an alpha is a direct attack on their omega, bonded or not.

“Who hurt you?” Bilbo whispers angrily and wants to touch the wound but he cannot bring himself to. Someone tried to kill his alpha, someone very nearly did. It was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. Someone had to pay, the thought that he might have never met Raven is heart breaking. “Never leave me, please, I was so alone and you took that loneliness away. Stay with me, I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.” Bilbo looks at Raven’s face relaxed in slumber and knows he hasn’t heard a word.

“Raven?” He shakes his alpha’s shoulder and his eyes crack open in tiny slits.

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” Raven nods and turns onto his side once more. Bilbo sighs in disappointment and presses himself against Raven’s back making a pillow from his soft hair that smelled of berries and reminded him of the Shire in spring. He drapes a possessive arm around Raven’s waist and hopes that in the near future Raven will turn in his embrace and spoon against him but for now he is content.


	10. Chapter 10

Bilbo awoke to a back spasm as something soft gently caressed his skin in a downward motion. He cracked his eyes open and found himself on his front with his face pressed to a pillow that smelled of berries and he saw the spot beside him vacant. Warm breath against the hollow of his back followed by the press of soft lips against his sleep warm skin revealed his alpha’s location and Bilbo sighed in approval. 

Raven ventured lower further over the curve of Bilbo’s posterior and playfully bit the mound of flesh causing Bilbo to yelp and turn on his side. “Of course you’d bite me there,” Bilbo pointedly chastised but his alpha ignored him and promptly pushed him onto his back and took up the space between his thighs once more. Bilbo’s protests died on his tongue as his alpha entered him in one single thrust and covered his lips with his own. 

Bilbo moaned into the kiss and stroked his fingers through Raven’s hair as the alpha expertly played with his body and set aflame to his bonfire heart. There was pleasure to be found in surrender, as Bilbo allowed the alpha to seize control and take what was his to have. It eased his heavy heart by being wanted and though he enjoyed the way Raven moved between his thighs and inside him pleasuring him in a way he had not thought possible, his kisses were more divine. 

There was intimacy there that was not present in a rut and as Raven’s long hair fell around them framing both their faces they could almost distance themselves from the act of their entwined bodies. Despite the urgency between his thighs their kiss was a slow exploration of one another’s mouths and when their tongues met there was no battle for supremacy just enjoyment of having the other close. 

When Raven finally broke the kiss Bilbo laid back compliant as his mind was fogged by the scent of his alpha. He’d been told that the scent of an omega to an alpha was disarming but he was never warned of the affects an alpha-in-rut scent would have on him. He not only felt disarmed but vulnerable and exposed and he wondered when the fogged cleared, how much of that was caused by the alpha and how much it was caused by Raven.

“You smell like home,” he whispered unthinkingly, blissed from the smell and the pleasure from being thoroughly fucked. Unsurprisingly Raven said nothing and peppered his chest with kisses and the fog in Bilbo’s mind cleared a little more only to reveal a nagging suspicion. He stared at Raven’s head as the alpha diligently pressed kisses across his sternum and he tried to focus on what was stirring the unrest in his mind. 

“You’re faking,” he accuses when sense returns to him. An alpha does not kiss during a rut. Though he did not deny Raven was in rut, there was perhaps more Raven than alpha that was determining his current actions. 

Raven stopped with his kisses and tilted his head up, looking up through his lashes that protected cornflower blue eyes and without a word Bilbo’s accusations were proven correct. Bilbo didn’t really know what to make of it as there were more questions than answers. Why was his alpha coherent? Was his scent not enough? Were hobbits and dwarves none compatible? Was it Raven’s sheer force of will or the simple fact that he had built up a tolerance in all his years of freedom? Raven was no spring chicken and though he looked to be around the same age as Bilbo, he was aware that dwarves aged differently and to look as if he could be a fifty-year-old hobbit he must be late into his one hundreds. 

“Where have you been hiding?” Bilbo asks absently and whether from annoyance at hearing his voice or the desperation to taste his lips, Raven soundly kisses him on the mouth. From there Bilbo once again succumbs to the alpha’s increased pheromones as the knot forms and he’s taken roughly as his alpha seeks to breed him. Whatever control Raven had was subsequently lost as they writhed together on the bed, a hot tangle of sweaty limbs and messy kisses and an overwhelming feeling of too much and yet knowing it was never enough. 

When Bilbo reached completion it hardly registered as his legs locked tightly around his alpha’s waist and he used the heels of his feet against Raven’s posterior to force the alpha closer and deeper inside him. Raven severed their kiss that had become more licks than anything else and buried his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck, scenting and nuzzling as he came inside the omega. 

Bilbo could hardly muster the disappointed of a second failed bite as they laid together bonded by the knot enjoying the afterglow. His mind was still a haze having Raven so close as the alpha rested against him, careful of his weight. “We need to find a new position,” Bilbo whispered into Raven’s ear and traced the curve with his finger. His thighs ached from being so widely spread and the implications of later hip problems was disturbing as he very much liked his walking holidays and he intended to take their children on walking holidays too. 

Raven said nothing as the alpha was very much in control and he hadn’t moved away from his scent gland clearly luxuriating in his mate’s scent. Bilbo wondered what Raven could smell and what it reminded him of. To him, Raven reminded him of his warm hearth in Bag End with his earthy scent and traces of fire. It was a reminder of what was and a promise of what could be. 

When Raven’s knot subsided enough the dwarf pulled away and laid on his back and Bilbo pressed against his side. “You smell amazing,” he complemented still high on Raven’s pheromones. He sat up and eyed the mess he had made on Raven’s stomach and chest and though his hind brain was more than happy to see his mate claimed and covered in his seed his more rational side suggested a wash was in order. 

His good mood turned sombre when his eyes fell upon that alarming scar once more. He reached out to touch it but his arm shook too much that he aborted the attempt and instead moved his hand up to caress Raven’s jaw. “Who hurt you?” he asked but was met with wide-eyed indifference as Raven pressed a kiss to his palm. “Raven, come back to me and tell me who hurt you.” The alpha merely gazed at him confused. “Come on, you’re better than this, fight it, come back to your little halfwit hobbit, tell me how much of a disappointment I am.” Against his better judgement, Bilbo shook his alpha’s shoulders. “Tell me!” He cried, almost hysterical and he realised then that he was only making the fight all the harder for Raven when the alpha was responding to his stressed mate. 

Bilbo took a hold of Raven’s hand that was caressing his cheek in comfort and he pressed a kiss to the back of it. “It’s okay, it can wait,” he soothed. Without a name he was helpless but with one he would go to the elders and claim the deviant had insulted him to the highest degree, which were fancy words when asking for the death penalty. 

“Best get us cleaned up,” Bilbo stated and let go of Raven’s hand and climbed off the bed. He looked around the cell but there was only a poky sink and all the towels had been used during Raven’s cleaning frenzy. A bath would probably be for the best or he could fetch a bowl of water and use the towels to clean Raven if he would not be cooperative. 

Deciding to go with the latter, Bilbo was stunned when he found himself suddenly pushed up against the bars with Raven looming behind him. “What are you doing?” Bilbo asked, startled, clutching the bars before him as Raven was crowding him. After the question left his lips he shook his head over the absurdity of it knowing exactly what his alpha was doing. “The door’s not locked, anyone could walk in!” Bilbo complained but Raven continued regardless and entered him once again. “Let them come in,” Bilbo changed his tune as he clung on desperately to the bars. Raven’s knot had not fully subsided from their last coupling and as it pushed past his tender rim he heard himself moan obscenely. He’d managed to keep rather quiet before with only bated and panted breath but now it was if a dam had burst as a torrent of curses and moans left his mouth. 

Bilbo stared at the door in a mixture of fear and impudence and for an insane moment he wanted the door to open. He wanted someone to see Raven attached to his back like an incubus attempting to breed him with more gusto than the night before. He clutched the bars tighter and watched as Raven’s left hand covered his left hand entirely and he swallowed thickly surprised by how turned on that simple gesture made him. Their new position was less taxing on Bilbo’s legs and allowed for a deeper penetration that tore more moans from his throat as he rested his head back against Raven’s shoulder. The alpha eagerly accepted the offering of his exposed neck, leaning down licking and pressing kisses against the scent gland careful not to bite. His self-control annoyed Bilbo though he did have a begrudging respect for Raven as even during a rut he had managed to keep his word. It was rare to find someone who kept their word and against such overwhelming odds. 

His lust was tainted by the knowledge that Raven would not bond with him and his erection wilted at the rejection. Moving his right hand from the bar, Bilbo grabbed Raven’s hand that was resting on his hip and brought it between his thighs. His breath stuttered as Raven enclosed his hand around his shaft and began to leisurely stroke under Bilbo’s guidance. Too soon it became insufficient and Bilbo guided his hand faster enjoying the feel of another hand around his member though his grip was rough and tighter than he would have liked it was still better than his own hand. 

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as Raven dragged his teeth along his scent gland. The action seemed enough to confuse his fogged omega brain and he came in spurts marking the grey carpet beyond the cell with his seed. Raven came inside him moments later as his passaged tightened and milked the alpha’s cock forcing him to spill his seed inside him while they remained locked together.

Bilbo drops his head forward resting his forehead against one of the cold bars and tries to slow his breathing. Raven shifts behind him and he grunts in disapproval and then a second time when Raven moves once again. 

“Stay still,” he hisses as he’s overly sensitive and the pleasure is beginning to sting. “Raven!” He argues when the dwarf moves again clearly distressed by something but as the dwarf is plastered to his back he cannot see. “Calm down,” he insists and against his better judgement he grabs a fistful of Raven’s hair and tugs. “Stay still,” he warns and presses a quick kiss to Raven’s lips before releasing his alpha’s hair. Whatever is bothering him continues to do so but he presses his nose against his scent gland and finds comfort there while he remains still under the direction of his omega. 

When they are able to part, Bilbo quickly turns to find Raven sat on the bed checking the sole of his left foot. He allows himself to laugh when Raven peels off a raisin with a grimace. “Imagine waking up in a bed full of them,” he tells the alpha, who is being far too precious about his feet and is pulling his boots back on. “You’re daft,” he shakes his head with a laugh and then remembers the mess he has made. 

For as long as he’s had Raven no one has cleaned his room but that did not mean they would not only that they did not know his cycle. Even so, if they never cleaned again until he left for the Shire he could not leave such obvious stains on the carpet. He ventures into his kitchenette no longer self-conscious about his nudity and fills a bowl with warm water and grabs a towel from the countertop. He then goes over to the stain and gets down on his hands and knees and wets the towel and begins to scrub at the mess. 

Raven remains on the bed wearing nothing but his boots and as much as Bilbo wants to tell him he looks ridiculous he can’t because he doesn’t. In fact, he looks like sex personified sat at the corner of the bed with his legs splayed with his thick shaft swollen and protruding from a nest of dark coarse hair. He promised himself he would not look there but Raven was making it terribly difficult, especially when he took himself in hand as he stared right back at him. It was certainly an image that would stay with Bilbo for a very long time if not indefinitely. 

“You could help,” Bilbo offers gesturing towards the stain. The cell door remains open and Raven gets up from the bed and gingerly crosses the threshold of cell to bedroom and then purposefully strides over to Bilbo. Bilbo was momentarily taken aback over Raven’s enthusiasm to help until the dwarf mounted him from behind and his laugh morphed into a moan as the alpha entered him again. “You are daft.” Bilbo stated fondly and allowed his alpha to roughly couple with him unsure if he himself were able to orgasm again so soon. “I always imagined you’d be passionate,” he begins and wonders why when obviously the alpha is in control and would not be able to understand him. 

Bilbo drops forward onto his elbows as Raven roughly takes him and a thrill of pleasure skitters up his spine as his toes touch Raven’s furred boots. When he had developed a boot fetish he did not know but he reasoned anything Raven did would have him addicted as he made breathing seem erotic. He was not sure if it was the heat that was making him more susceptible to Raven’s charm or for the simple fact that he fell quickly and deeply in love with the feral alpha that was booted out of the back room of the auction house and was hissing venomously at a hunter. 

Surprisingly his own cock swells between his thighs and not wishing to make a second mess, he grabs the material nearest him, believing it to be the towel and holds it against his cock as he cums for a third time that day. Panting heavily, he looks down and sees it was not the towel but Raven’s tattered shirt and he smiles deviously knowing that whoever encounters that shirt would know exactly what they’ve been doing. He’s quite sure everyone on his level or had the misfortune to pass his door would know what they were doing. 

He barely notices when Raven spills his seed inside him as he had been lost in his own pleasure. He takes the time locked together to finish cleaning the floor while Raven presses kisses down his sweat-slick back. He needs a wash as his own body odour is becoming unbearable although Raven smells divine, though his judgement could be clouded by his pheromones. 

When they part, Raven lays on his back on the carpet and Bilbo stands up and makes his way over to the bathroom. “Raven?” He calls and his alpha turns his head to look at him but otherwise doesn’t move. “Come here, Raven.” He’ll later regret patronising his alpha by patting his thighs as if he were summoning a dog. Thankfully the alpha is in control and cannot comprehend the insult that was just mindlessly given. Instead he ignores his omega and sprawls out on the floor making Bilbo’s mouth water as he watches the muscles flex in his hard gorgeous pale thighs. 

“I’m going in the bath!” He announces and quickly turns around before he leapt on the alluring alpha. It was too soon to do that again and he was beginning to physically feel Raven’s passion for him and frankly he needed a reprieve. He enters the bathroom and considers locking the door behind him but instead he leaves it ajar hoping to tempt his alpha inside.

He runs the bath and uses as many lotions he can find making the water bubble before he steps into the tub. The water is lukewarm as he had both taps running at full capacity to fill the tub but he does not mind and he submerges himself into the water. He takes a scrubbing brush from the side and immediately begins cleaning himself scrubbing his soft skin pink in his enthusiasm to smell nice again. He can hear Raven moving around in the bedroom as he washes his hair but once he rinses out the suds all is suspiciously quiet. 

Feeling uncomfortable, Bilbo exits the bath and dries off. He had taken to keeping a spare change of clothing in the bathroom in case he and Raven had another spat like before and he quickly changes into them. He’s straightening his braces as he exits the bathroom and finds Raven fully clothed and stood at the open door, looking between Bilbo and potential freedom with confusion. It seems he was only waiting for Bilbo to exit the bathroom before he slipped out of the door and into the corridor. 

Bilbo’s jaw dropped in astonishment and he quickly ran to the door to see Raven slowly making his way towards the stairs. There was no subtly in his escape nor urgency as he carried on, his head turning every now and then as though there was a war in his mind that Bilbo was not privy to. When he reaches the stairs Bilbo begins to follow feeling as confused as Raven looks. If this was an attempt at freedom it was a very poor one but Bilbo was intrigued nonetheless. If Raven had to test the boundaries then so be it, he would not get far. 

Bilbo follows him at a sedate pace curious and also worried that his scent might attract an omega. When Raven reaches the ground level he walks forward towards the Great Hall and then stops and turns left eyeing the door. Bilbo waits halfway up the stairs and notices hunters becoming alerted to a loose unbound alpha and as they fill out across the balcony overlooking the parlour he can see the horror in a few of their eyes as they realise which alpha it is. Raven’s reputation clearly exceeded him so Bilbo walked down the rest of the stairs so he was within the hunters' vision so they might know Raven was not truly alone. 

Raven was seemingly unaware of the unrest and growing forces emerging on the balcony as he slowly made his way over to the door. Bilbo’s heart plummeted as he believed he and Raven were on better terms but his escape attempt would put them right back at square one when the hunter’s gave him back, kicking and screaming. 

He watches Raven walk over towards the door but he does not open it. Instead he turns his head to the right as his mental war continues to rage and he turns and walks up the corridor to the left of the Great Hall. Bilbo’s jaw drops for a second time as Raven disappears from sight and he tries to mentally map the building trying to recall where that corridor led to. He shakes his head at his own foolishness and chases after Raven, though he is not in the hall and has made it through the end door. Bilbo runs down the corridor, through the door and into the mess hall looking around wildly and finds Raven stood in the dinner queue with a tray in his hand bold as brass and uncaring of the attention he brought himself. 

The hall was only a third of the way full and for that Bilbo was thankful as they had everyone’s attention. He walked over to Raven and pressed against his back uncomfortable with all the lustful looks his alpha received. His alpha smelled absolutely delicious, far better than any food on display and best of all, Bilbo could smell himself on him. It was a risk parading an unbonded alpha around an omega colony, it was ill-advised and potentially cruel. However, his alpha was hungry, something he had not considered as he did not eat during his heat as it hurt his stomach as it rebelled wanting a child and would not accept anything else. 

Raven carries on as though nothing is amiss and grabs two slices of bread and various meats, tossing them on a plate on his tray and then skulks off to the far table in the back corner. Bilbo smiles and follows as that was the table he had last sat at however he did not believe they were two of a kind, only that that particular table was the furthest from the others. Raven sits with his back to the wall and Bilbo takes the seat opposite him as Raven puts together a very large and messy sandwich. 

He begins to eat ravenously looking every bit the feral alpha with his sex-mussed hair and appalling lack of table manners. His scent is to die for and Bilbo feels himself succumbing to the call of his mate before he shakes his head and clears it from the fog. He breathes deeply and notices Raven’s scent has increased and wonders what had caused it. He sits back able to think clearly and sees that Raven is chewing slowly, cautiously, while his eyes scan the room and his shoulders hunch as he leans down guarding his sandwich. 

“You really are daft,” Bilbo states when he realises what is happening. “It’s not your food they want.” Only his alpha could walk into a room unbonded with dozens of unbonded omegas and convince himself that they were going to steal his food. It was very telling of his psyche and he considered giving it some more thought when a pang of jealousy struck him painfully in the gut. Omegas, dozens of them, staring at his alpha, his One, as though he were a piece of meat. He shouldn’t be jealous but he glared at each omega individually until they lowered their heads and turned away red in the face. Jealousy was a characteristic of an alpha, who were also territorial, possessive and aggressive all signs Bilbo was displaying. He could not help himself, being so close to Raven drove him mad, mad with jealously and mad with love. 

Once all of the omegas had averted their gazes, Raven sat up straight, shoulders no longer hunched and continued to eat undisturbed. Bilbo could not find it in himself to relax and he kept eyeing the others in the room making sure they kept their eyes to themselves. What he wouldn’t give for a bargepole just so he could stand in front of Raven and swing it at any who dare approach his alpha. His. He’s sick with fear that someone would take his Raven away, though he should not be because they are a match. It weighs heavy upon him that Raven has not bit him and bonded with him as it supported the theory in the back of his mind that his alpha did not love him. His alpha who had known freedom for many years, who had loved and lost and lived a life he knew nothing of, perhaps Raven did not love him because Raven loved someone else. 

Something knocks against his hand and he looks down to see Raven had torn off a piece of his sandwich and had given it to him in thanks. The gesture chases the dark thoughts in his mind away, as his alpha not only comforted him earlier but now was providing for him. He eats the offering as it would be an insult not to and he intends to in no way reject Raven’s attempts at courtship. 

“Are you finished? Would you like more?” Bilbo asks, hoping his words get through to Raven. The alpha looks at his plate and shakes his head. “Okay, we’ll go back now, yes? I’ll have your meals brought up to our room, no more adventures.” He was not so sure his heart could take another adventure and thankfully Raven nodded his consent. 

Standing up, Bilbo offers his hand and is grateful when Raven accepts it and he presses close to the dwarf’s side to ward off any daring omegas. He can’t shake his jealousy and it is vile and unbecoming but what if Raven did have an omega and they were in this colony? Raven wasn’t alone in Farmer Maggots field on the day he was caught, and though the auctioneer said his cohort evaded capture the question remained, did he? Or was his cohort an omega and the hunter realised and stopped the hunt? 

There’s too many questions and his alpha can’t answer them and Raven won’t. They exit the mess hall and the chatter immediately starts, callous whispers calling him a braggart among other unsavoury things. It was a cruel act showing off his unbonded alpha if it were intentional which it was not, he was merely loosening the leash on his alpha and was convinced he would make a dash for freedom not queue for food. It was an oversight and one he meant to rectify immediately but unfortunately the damage had been done and his reputation was irrevocably tarnished. 

Still, there was very little he could do about it and undoubtedly their audacity would be spoken about until the end of time. They continue down the corridor away from the venomous hisses and enter the parlour where Raven freezes and Bilbo is jerked back having still held on to his hand. He turns in query only to find Raven staring at the door leading to the exit. He drops his alpha’s hand and makes his way over to the stairs and turns looking at his alpha expectantly. 

“Raven?” He calls and when his alpha looks he shrugs. The ball was in Raven’s court and if he must test the boundaries of his prison, Bilbo would allow it. If Raven truly believed escape was possible then he needed to be disabused of that notion and he was quite convinced Raven would not make it past the gate. 

Raven stares longingly at the door long enough to make Bilbo feel incredibly guilty and low and then he marches over the stairs and begins to climb them. Bilbo was sure he would test the boundaries so he was startled when Raven made a noise of discontent, walked back down the stairs and grabbed his wrist before dragging him up the stairs with him. There’s a moment as he’s being dragged down the corridor where Raven pauses clearly lost but then he scents the air and finds his way again, stomping down to the third room on the right. 

The door is kicked shut behind him and Raven continues to drag him over to the cell and pushes him down on his back on the bed. “Raven don’t!” Bilbo protests as the alpha goes towards the cell door but instead of locking him in as he thought he would, he only closes the door, locking them in together. Bilbo breathes a sigh of relief and smiles devilishly when Raven begins to strip. “Oh do, Raven, please do and leave those boots on.” If his alpha understood, he does not know as he begins to strip looking forward to the next two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I'll try to update this once every week. I tried for Monday but missed my deadline. Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo awoke and stretched out his limbs feeling satisfied and refreshed. The ache in his stomach had stopped and he turned on his side and smiled happily when he was faced with broad shoulders and a pale back and long black hair spread out on the pillow. He reached his right hand out to touch his alpha’s shoulder but the muscles tensed at his touch and Raven jerked away from him.

“Get out.” Raven ordered gravely.

“What?” 

“Did I stutter? Get out.” Bilbo stared at Raven’s back and knowing the cell door was unlocked he climbed out of the warm covers, collected his clothes strewn all over the cell floor and exited the cell, closing and locking the door as he did so. He pulled the key from the lock and placed it inside his bedside table and then sat on his bed covering his modesty with his dirty clothes as he stared into the cell in confusion. 

“Raven?” He called sadly, staring at the mountain of covers hiding his alpha. “Please talk to me, what we shared…”

“Was nothing! You’re nothing,” Raven interrupts spitefully. 

“But we made love,” Bilbo cried helplessly. 

“Love? I fucked you, that’s what alphas do with omegas.” Bilbo stuttered a reply but Raven sat up and glared at him so nastily it took his breath away. “Did I bite you?” He asked slowly and Bilbo absently reached up to touch his unbitten scent gland. “I am not as weak as you think I am.” 

“I never said you were weak.”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“Then enlighten me,” Bilbo snapped back.

“You stood in front of me when that hunter wanted payback. You even went so far as to fire him showing off to your omega friends, treating me like I was a fucking damsel!” 

“You are….” Bilbo started, red in the face and full of anger. He took deep steadying breaths unwilling to give Raven the satisfaction of taking the bait. “You are a piece of work. What would you have had me do, stand back and let him pummel you?” His question was met with silence. “You would, you bloody great fool. That pride of yours is a disservice to you.” The silence stretched between them and Bilbo thought that would be the end of it as Raven was quick to dish out the insults but struggled when he was met with them. 

“At least I have some pride,” Raven whispered loud enough to be heard. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Bilbo answered back, taking the bait. 

“It means you have no pride, no dignity and no self-respect. Desperate.” The words cut deep, and Bilbo failed to hide the hurt.

“You bastard,” he whimpered and wiped away a stray tear.

“Sure!” Raven snapped. “I’m the bad guy. You keep on crying, princess. I’d hate to see how you’d react being locked in a cage and used as a whore.”

“I would never…”

“I would never,” Raven mimicked. “You already did!” Raven snapped and then his lips quirked up into a smirk. “And you want more,” his voice lowered and to Bilbo’s shame he felt his cock twitch in interest. “I think you’d do anything for my bite. I’m right, aren’t I? Would you suck my cock, little hobbit?” Bilbo turned away, disgusted with himself that he would. “Oh look at that, you want to so what’s stopping you? I promise not to stop you.” With a flourish, Raven pulled the covers from himself exposing his naked body and more tellingly his flaccid penis. He was not stirred by his own words only angry and he was using sex as a weapon again as he clearly believed it was his only commodity in their personal war. 

“Please don’t.” 

“Do I displease my Master? Should I maybe get onto my knees? Don’t worry, I’ll leave my boots on.” 

“Stop it!” Bilbo shouted, jumping up from the bed still covering his modesty with his clothes. “Just stop it. Why must you quarrel with me? I love you! Can we not at least be friends?” 

“Someone like me would never be friends with someone like you.”

“Well, that’s that then. I think I’ll have a bath.” Bilbo does not know why he informs Raven but he needs to wash the alpha’s scent off him because smelling like him is breaking his heart. 

“I’d like a bath,” Raven mutters as he walks over to the bathroom. “Thanks for offering and taking care of my needs, love.” 

Bilbo opens the door but sends a glare over to the cage. “Prick!” He ignores Raven’s laughter and slams the door in rage and punches it for good measure. He regrets his actions immediately as his hand stings and he moves over to the sink and twists the tap holding his right hand beneath the cold water. He hisses as the water hits the split skin of his knuckles and comes away pink and he is further humiliated when his own tears merge with the bloody water and swirl down the drain.

This wasn’t him. He would not call his One such vile things and he most certainly would not lose his temper enough to strike an inanimate object. He watches as the water runs clear and turns off the tap and wraps his injured hand in a towel. Raven confused him like no other as he ran hot and cold on a whim and though he held Bilbo’s heart in his hand he was more comfortable crushing it than cherishing it. His cruelty knew no bounds and one so mean spirited should not be meant for a child of the kindly West. Raven’s attitude corrupted his heart and made him into someone-something- he did not wish to be and it pained him that he was actually considering a life without Raven. 

Bilbo walks over to the bath and places the plug in before running the hot tap. He loved Raven, he was his One but their relationship was not as the elders say. Could they have simply aged out of their bond as an omega ages out of fertility? They had lived too many years apart, walked different paths and lived different lives maybe they had just missed each other when they were destined to meet. 

Bilbo twists the cold tap and adds lavender to the water to sooth his weary soul. He doesn’t want to be alone again but nor does he wish to hurt Raven. The bath fills and he turns off the taps and climbs in the tub and he briefly submerges his head under the water so his tears are indistinguishable from the bath water. He had cried too much over Raven already and he found his alpha was emotionally exhausting. He hadn’t felt anything in such a long time he thought he was the living dead and now Raven inspired all these emotions within him and he was overwhelmed by it all. He might not like the way he felt currently but in that he could feel, that Raven could cut so deeply with so few words reassured him that Raven was still his One. He would not be so wounded had Raven meant nothing to him. 

Lying back in the bath, Bilbo closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Beyond the jumble of his own thoughts the screaming had resumed. He focused on it, putting aside his own thoughts and feelings to try and gauge what had upset his alpha and how he might rectify it. Unsurprisingly he encounters anger first, so much anger and rage but thankfully none of it was directed at him and though he knew not where the rest of his anger was directed the most part was at himself. Digging deeper he came across shame, again at himself though he did not know the reason why and then surprisingly enough there was sadness and that was reserved for Bilbo.

It was a shame he could feel the emotions but not know what had inspired them. It would have to be guess work as Raven was an introvert and not forthcoming with personal information. The anger and rage was obvious, Raven was a warrior, he’d seen his battle scars to prove it and he was a dwarf, both noble positions to take pride in but coupled together the pride becomes boastful and egotistical. Raven’s certainly had and he could find inflections of it in his speech. 

‘I am too good for you, Omega.’

‘I don’t think you know who you are talking to.’

‘Someone like me would never be friends with someone like you.’

It troubled Bilbo that he could remember each patronising sentence, but he did so adore Raven’s voice but unfortunately the deep rumbling baritone had only spewed venom at him. Even his sugared words were sweetly wrapped poison designed to injure.

Bilbo turned his thoughts to the shame and was met with endless possibilities. Shame because he allowed himself to be captured? Shame because of what happened to his beard? Someone had cut it off and that person’s name will be passed to the elders as well once he learns of it. Shame that he had succumbed to his alpha and mated with the hobbit? He had refrained from biting so it was not a stretch to believe he had meant to refrain from coupling especially considering the anxious pacing he was doing beforehand. 

Raven had said that they had fucked and Bilbo agreed, they had. However, they had coupled many times during those four days and during that time they had made love as well. If Raven wished to live in denial, then that was his choice but he could recall being on Raven’s lap, foreheads pressed together as they stared into each other eyes and shared the same breath as Raven gently rocked his hips. Raven could say as many vicious things as he pleased but he could not take that back, he could not deny that perfect moment. It was that perfect moment that Bilbo now clung to in a desperate attempt not to despise his alpha because Raven had hurt him horribly and intentionally. 

Perhaps that was why his alpha was sad, perhaps he didn’t mean to go so far. Bilbo had always been a sensitive soul, his mother adored that about him though his father had worried. It was possible Raven did not realise how deeply his words cut, or he was so angry that he lashed out at the only person there without a thought to the consequences. That certainly seemed plausible, Raven was a hothead and Bilbo was the only one within distance he could vent his frustration on. 

None of that mattered, in the great scheme of things. Bilbo looked down at his plump stomach and stroked a hand over it. Raven’s seed had taken, of that he was sure and he was going to have a child, their child. He would not end his days as a barren bachelor warning the next generation about the perils of waiting too long. Instead he could go home with pride and claim Bag End with a bun in the oven and an alpha at his side. 

Bilbo took his time in the bath with his eyes regularly looking down at his protruding stomach, currently fat from food but it would soon swell with their child. When the water was cold, Bilbo climbed out and frowned when he realised he had not replaced the set of clothing he kept in the bathroom. Tying a towel around his waist he exited the bathroom and walked over to his wardrobe sparing a cursory look towards the cell. Raven was dressed in his dirty robes completely ignoring Bard’s clothing in the corner and his boots were off, a wriggle of his toes to draw his eye proved that it was deliberate. Bilbo dropped his towel in response and turned his back so his alpha could see the evidence of his passion in the form of bruises on his hips, thighs and wrists. 

Raven said nothing though his silence spoke volumes and Bilbo slowly dressed taking care not to jolt his stomach. It was early days yet, too early for the test which would be taken seven days after a mating but he did not want to take any risks. He sat down on the bed and removed the towel from around his hand and looked at his red and sore knuckles thankful they had stopped bleeding. Now able to use his hand Bilbo buttoned his waistcoat with a smile looking forward to the day the buttons would be fit to burst because of his pregnant belly. 

His eyes invariably strayed to the cell where Raven was eyeing both he and his hand with lips parted as though he wished to say something. Bilbo sighed, frustrated and dragged a hand through his wet curls. 

“Oh come now, out with it.” Bilbo insisted readying himself for a verbal flaying. 

“You…” was all Raven was able to say before the door to Bilbo’s room burst open. 

“I waited for as long as I could but I could leave it no longer!” Gimli announced, stomping into the room, heavily pregnant and bold as brass. “I’ve been hearing all sorts about you Master Baggins, braggart mostly, flaunting your alpha, a good looking one too, so I hear. Well then let me take a look!” Gimli turned from the bed towards the cell and stared at Raven and the colour of his skin turned ashen. 

“Gimli?” Bilbo questioned, standing from the bed and held the dwarf’s arm to steady him. “Are you ill?” Gimli ignored all his queries as he stared at Raven with a gaping mouth and Raven glared back. “Gimli, do you know him?” 

“Know him?” Gimli deflected turning away from the alpha. “Because I’m a dwarf?” He asked rather harshly. 

“No, because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Gimli looked between Bilbo and Raven and began to retreat from the room. “Preposterous! Absolutely ludicrous! If I am unnerved it is because that alpha is unbonded and the stench of him permeates the air and I am too far along to be smelling of another alpha.” Bilbo could almost believe him if he would not look at Raven so fearfully. 

“Gimli, please…”

“I must be off; the bairns are kicking up a fuss. He’s a very nice looking alpha, good luck to you.” 

“Gimli!” Bilbo called but the dwarf exited the room. Bilbo stared at Raven for some clue but as usual the alpha was silent but had a look of fury on his face. Bilbo left his room and chased after Gimli who was waddling as fast as his small legs could take him down the corridor. “Gimli please!” 

“I don’t know him!” the ginger dwarf answered unable to meet his eyes.

“Yes you do.”

“You’re being incredibly racist, Master Baggins and as I said I do not.”

“Then look me in the eyes and tell me you do not know him.” As predicted Gimli tried to meet his eyes but his gaze faltered. Gimli was without guile; it was one of the reasons Bilbo liked him so much. “A name, that is all I ask.”

Gimli opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water and looked perplexed. “Thorin,” he finally answered with some effort. 

Bilbo smiled. “I thought you said you did not know him.” Gimli huffed in response and tried to manoeuvre around Bilbo. “No, please wait, where is he from?” 

“A name is all you asked and a name is all you’ll get, step aside, you are distressing the wee ‘uns.” Gimli snapped with a protective hand over his swollen stomach which forced Bilbo to comply and allow the dwarf to waddle away muttering under his breath. 

Bilbo felt guilty for forcing an answer and he would apologise properly in due course with a hamper made up of goods from the Shire and a large amount of Old Toby that the dwarf was so fond of. For now, he headed back to his room with a skip in his step and opened the door and suddenly became aware of his alpha’s anxiety. 

He entered the room and shut the door behind him. “Oh don’t worry yourself, he didn’t tell me anything, Thorin.” His alpha’s eyes widened at the name and his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest defensively. “Shall we try this again?” Bilbo asked, approaching the bars. “My name is Bilbo Baggins, and you are?” Thorin said nothing and only glared at him. “You are Thorin, and where might Thorin be from?” Again silence. “Your name may have changed but your temperament has not. Gimli may no longer speak to me but he is not the only dwarf in this compound, I will find out who you are.” Bilbo threw his hands up, Thorin was insufferable and he was a fool if he thought his threat to be idle. 

Bilbo stormed out of the room and hastily made his way down the corridor, up two flights of stairs and pounded on the door second on the left. 

“Alright, alright, keep ye hair on, I’m coming.” Bilbo heard Bofur before the dwarf finally opened the door. 

“Come with me,” Bilbo insisted and grabbed hold of Bofur’s wrist and pulled him from the room.

“What’s this? Please tell me there’s new breeding stock.” Bofur begged and followed without pause.

“What? No, I need you to do something for me.” Bilbo ignored all the lewd possibilities Bofur came up with and led the dwarf inside his room and walked him over to the cell. “Who is he?” Bofur looked at Thorin and then back to Bilbo with a look of confusion.

“Is this a trick question?” He asked unsure.

“Who is he?” Bilbo pressed. 

“Your alpha.”

“No, I mean who is he, really, what is his name?” Bofur looked at Thorin once again before shrugging his shoulders in defeat. 

“Not all dwarves know each other, Bilbo, that’s pretty racist. Do you know every hobbit?” 

Bilbo nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Oh right, forgot you do family trees. Anyway I don’t know him.”

“But Gimli did,” Bilbo replied, lost. 

“Ah well, that’s the answer!” Bofur crowed victoriously and gifted him his most roguish grin. “I’m from Ered Luin, Gimli is from Erebor so my guess is your alpha is from Erebor…and judging from the way he looks like he wants to rip my throat out, I would say I’m right.” Bilbo smiled at the new information fearing Bofur’s visit would be a bust. “Ere, why aren’t you bonded?” Bofur asked suspiciously. 

“Long story,” Bilbo sighed, put upon. 

“Alright but crack a window yeah? Smells like a whorehouse in here.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo admonished and the dark haired dwarf laughed and sauntered out of the room. Bilbo closed the door behind him before taking his advice and opening a window. He then walked over to the cell once more and stroked his hand over his stomach.

“Thorin from Erebor, you are going to be a father.” Bilbo announced happily and he knew he did not imagine the sudden light in Thorin’s eyes.

“You’re pregnant?” Thorin asked in disbelief. 

“Early days but I believe so.” Thorin schooled his features, clearly having not meant to speak aloud and though he remained stoic Bilbo did not miss the many looks Thorin cast towards his stomach throughout the day.


	12. Chapter 12

Bilbo pushed the fried tomato around on his plate with a fork. The butterflies in his stomach were all aflutter and he could not stomach another bite. His foot tapped anxiously on the floor as his eyes kept straying to the clock. It had been seven days since his heat had come to its conclusion and he had an appointment with the resident doctor at ten. It was currently twenty minutes past nine and he was playing with his second breakfast. Thorin had finished his in record time and his used dishes were pushed back beneath the door. 

The walk to the infirmary was five minutes from his current location. Bilbo eyed the clock once more, twenty-one minutes past nine. Bilbo stood up unable to control his nerves. He took his plate over to Thorin’s cell and slid it beneath the door. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Thorin snapped, eyeing the hobbit suspiciously. The dwarf had begun to talk more, mostly making inquiries as to what Bilbo was doing though he never spoke about himself and his tone was always harsh and snappish. A front to deny the growing friendship between them. 

“I have the test today, Daddy.” Unconsciously his hand stroked over his stomach and he knew in his heart it would be positive and the question was not if he was pregnant but how many. “Do twins run in your family, as they do in Gimli’s?” 

“Those twins are not from Gimli’s side.” Thorin’s answer left Bilbo baffled.

“Are you related to Gimli?” Bilbo asked believing Thorin had revealed too much. Thorin scowled in response but said nothing further and Bilbo did not press as he had no desire to be called a racist again. Instead he clutched his back, convinced he had pulled something. “I shall have my back checked as well, I’m quite sure in your enthusiasm you nearly put it out.” 

“Only nearly?” Came Thorin’s flirtatious response. Bilbo eyed the dwarf, stunned, while Thorin looked horrified. 

“You’ll just have to try harder next time,” Bilbo offered with a slow smile. In truth, he didn’t fancy having his back blown out but he would certainly look forward to the attempt. 

Bilbo eyed the clock once again. Twenty-six minutes past nine. He eyed the dwarf in the cell who looked stricken and was pointedly keeping quiet. No wonder he stayed so silent when he was loose-lipped on important information. 

“We’ll be off then, Daddy, say goodbye,” he spoke the latter to his stomach and Thorin cast him a questionable look but there was amusement in it. 

Bilbo left the room with a skip in step. He was finally making progress in his relationship with Thorin. It certainly helped that he was calling him by the right name and what a beautiful name it was, simple and suitable. After his heat, he had feared a separation was imminent as he had questioned his devotion to the alpha. Things had seemed bleak, he could not deny, Thorin had pushed him too far. Had it not been for the baby, Bilbo would have denied his claim and let Thorin go. 

When he had emerged from the bathroom Thorin had been alerted to his change of attitude and though his actions were spiteful his words were not as he knew enough to still his tongue. Bilbo can only guess that Thorin hadn’t meant to truly hurt him, he was simply lashing out and rebelling against his confinement and position. He seemed genuinely shocked when Bilbo revealed his damaged right hand and Bilbo can only assume then that Thorin had an epiphany. Bilbo was a soft sensitive soul and if Thorin was determined to keep pushing him away Bilbo would eventually leave and the repercussions would not be favourable to Thorin. If Bilbo chose to deny their soul bond Thorin would be breeding stock until the day he died with no reprieve. Breeding stock were passed around until they found their One, having been denied Thorin would not have that luxury and as an alpha he would not age out as an omega would. So, he would be used until the end of his life as breeding stock was in short supply and he would not be released due to old age as he would still be virile. 

It certainly seemed plausible that the dwarf had realised Bilbo was the lesser of two evils though Bilbo didn’t like to think of their relationship as the lesser evil. Bilbo wished that Thorin could see that he was a slave to circumstance and biology just as much as Thorin was. Thorin certainly didn’t seem to blame Bilbo as much judging by his open flirtation a moment ago.

Bilbo practically floated down the stairs blissed from the memory of it. The mask had slipped and the truth was uttered and that voice, the scent of him, Bilbo would have pounced on him if he did not fear he would flee.

Bilbo reached the parlour and turned right and walked towards the blue double doors. Thorin had made a sexual advance without aid of a heat nor was there an ulterior motive, he had spoken freely without a filter. Bilbo passed through the double doors and then lost in his thoughts he turned right again through another set of blue doors and stepped outside where a crowd was gathering. Shaking his head from his thoughts, Bilbo tried to think where he went wrong and as he turned to retrace his steps someone grabbed a hold of his wrist. 

“Bilbo? Thought that was you,” a smiling boyish face greeted him as he turned in question. Bilbo eyed the dark-haired lad in confusion and tried to place him and then remembered he was one of his new friends he made at the auction, though he never learned his name. “Come to wave the happy couple off?” The lad asked enthusiastically unjaded by time and disappointment, Bilbo liked that about him, the world needed more hopeless romantics. 

“Happy couple?” Bilbo questioned and allowed his friend to lead him through the masses. The space was small making the fifty or so people seem like a large crowd. Bilbo found himself ushered to the front of the crowd to no one’s chagrin due to his small stature and he eyed the two men saddling two bay mares. At first he could not determine what all the hoopla was about until the strawberry blond lifted his head and smiled winningly at his companion. 

“Boromir and Aragorn are leaving for Gondor,” his companion informed him. 

“So soon?” Bilbo asked. There was of course nothing to keep them here but nor were there rules to turf them out. Mated couples usually stay until their first born arrives as there were many carers within the compound who could help with childrearing or plenty of minders while they locked themselves away and worked on making a second child. Quite a few couples had resided in the compound permanently to exploit the free sitters which was perfectly acceptable so long as they continued to procreate. 

“Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, Boromir’s father has requested his son return with his alpha and have the child in Minas Tirith.”

“The child? Boromir is pregnant?” His companion nods with a wide smile and Bilbo turns his attention to the bonded pair. Boromir’s skin was pasty as men of the south tended to be though his cheeks were rosy and not from the cold. His companion, Aragorn, also of fair colouring was pressing kisses against their soul mark while a possessive hand rubbed over Boromir’s flat belly. Bilbo absently rubbed his own stomach wishing Thorin would gaze at him as Aragorn looked upon Boromir like a starving man observing a feast. 

Bilbo was awakened from his reverie by Boromir’s undignified squeak as his alpha lifted him instead of simply helping him mount. Several of the gathered sighed happily though much to Bilbo’s disappointment he heard a few tuts from the back and whispers that the alpha was too old for the omega. He had noticed the age difference on the night they met but now Boromir had allowed his facial hair to grow in the same fashion as Aragorn’s neat short black beard it wasn’t as noticeable. Still those sick with envy would conjure any excuse to wish the happy couple ill and it turned his stomach. 

There were more venomous whispers now questioning the ranger’s motives. He’d heard the talk before, claiming Aragorn was an overreaching alpha that desired only a Stewardship. Bilbo felt his hands clench into fists, despising such talk. In the early days’ alphas got by on their own merit and held positions of power as Generals, Stewards and even Kings. An Alpha was equal to an Omega as they were a part of the same whole, so how alphas became lesser Bilbo did not know. History was written by the victors so the truth of the subjugation of the Alphas would never come to light though he had hope that the terrible wrong would be put right. 

He turned his attention back to the pair and watched as Aragorn helped Boromir up and double checked the saddle and reins. Boromir watched with a huge smile and blue eyes alight with laughter and Bilbo’s heart ached a little. Once his inspection was finished to his satisfaction Aragorn held out for one last kiss before mounting his own horse leaving Boromir blushing and shyly pushing long strawberry blond hair behind his ear. The action was that of a tween, as were the timid glances and bitten red lips and Bilbo was reminded of Boromir’s true age once again. Boromir was one of the lucky ones having only presented in the past year and now he was bonded and pregnant. He would never know loneliness; he would never feel as though he has not done his duty. He will live the rest of his life loved by an alpha that worshipped the ground he walked on. If that didn’t deserve a good send off, Bilbo did not know what did. 

The couple rode out of the paddock to cheers, whistles and waves and the genuine goodwill heartened Bilbo. Unaware of the time, Bilbo turned back not wishing to be late for his appointment. He bid farewell to his friend, though he was not convinced he was heard as his companion still had his eyes trained on the couple disappearing into the distance whilst clapping loudly. Bilbo made his way slowly towards the door, turning every so often hoping his friend would turn so he could in the very least wave goodbye. 

“…because he was the youngest. Dirty old man, probably knew who he was too. Just wants a Stewardship, that ain’t no love match, you mark my words. Young ones are always so dumb, probably flattered that the ancient alpha got it up for him, course we know he just wanted to knock him up, ensure his position.” Bilbo froze and turned to see none other than the jealous poisonous Alfrid Lickspittle.

“You really are a vile little man.” Bilbo stated and a hush fell over the crowd. 

“Little? Says you?” Alfrid shot back but it was a poor insult and he eyed his cronies for support but none was forthcoming. “Just who do you think you are?” Alfrid snapped, humiliated. 

“A decent person.”

“Yeah, but you’re not,” a few people in the crowd nodded and Bilbo was confused. “You think you’re so clever bringing your bitch to the mess hall…”

“Don’t you dare call him that!” Bilbo practically growled. He knew it was the wrong thing to do as a smirk crossed the cretin’s thick lips. 

“Bitch!” Bilbo’s vision turned red and the next thing he knew his fist was impacting against Alfrid’s cheek and he knocked the stupid black flat cap off the sod’s head. Alfrid fell back but his cronies caught him and he stayed awhile propped up in their arms holding his injured cheek. “You’re deranged, you are!” Alfrid snapped before standing on his own two feet. “Think it’s funny parading around an unbonded alpha and just attack concerned citizens? Thought he was your One, but he’s not, is he?” Bilbo paled at the accusation. “He’s not!” Alfrid crowed, gaining momentum. “You’ve got everyone fooled but not me, not for a minute. What kind of trickster are you? Making the auctioneer think you were meant for that alpha. I told ‘em, I told you all!” Alfrid announces and the gathered are listening intently. “I said we didn’t want his sort here, now look, sneaky bugger bagged himself an alpha, made us all think that he was his One…”

“Because he is!” Bilbo snapped, and in an act that angered him, Alfrid pulled his neckerchief down to reveal his unbitten scent gland. 

“Just as I thought, couldn’t seal the deal because he is not yours.”

“He is mine,” Bilbo protested and covered his scent gland once more. “We’re just taking it slow before we bond, but he is my boyfriend.” To his own ears his argument sounded weak. 

“Boyfriend, can you all hear this? Bilbo Baggins has got himself a boyfriend.” Alfrid announced sarcastically. “And do you know why Bilbo Baggins has a boyfriend? Because Bilbo Baggins is a lying snake in the grass that can’t bond because the alpha, oh you’ve all seen that hot piece of ass, well Bilbo is being stingy and keeping breeding stock all to himself.” The crowd were beginning to turn and Bilbo started to feel incredibly outnumbered. 

“How can you honestly live with yourself?” Bilbo asked with disgust. “You are so miserable and you spread misery like a plague. You are so cold and warped you take enjoyment from it but you will not take my happiness. Rain on another parade, I have earned my right to be happy.” 

Alfrid’s usual pale sweaty face was red with fury. “No, I think I’ll rain on your parade. I’m going to the elders; I’m going to tell them what you’ve done and then we’ll all have a turn with your alpha!” The first punch was a warning, the second Bilbo threw was unrestrained anger and he delighted in the sickening crunch as his fist impacted on Alfrid’s pointed nose, breaking it on impact and knocking it to a grotesque degree. 

Hands grabbed at Bilbo, pulling him back as he wanted to lay into the spiteful creep again. Bard appeared before him, standing sideways between him and Alfrid with both arms stretched out to prevent either side from attacking. Bard was always protecting Alfrid due to some perceived brotherhood because they were both from Lake-town. It was said that Alfrid followed Bard about from colony to colony as he was obsessed with the dark-haired omega and due to Bard’s offer of protection he was not helping towards Alfrid’s childish crush. 

Alfrid came to in one of his follower’s arms having briefly been knocked out. He touched his crooked nose and gave a high-pitched scream as his hand came back bloody. “He broke my nose!” Alfrid cried for sympathy. “He’s gone feral; he needs to be put down.” Alfrid looked around gauging the reaction of the crowd. “Once you’re gone, I’m gonna sit on your alpha’s cock…” Bilbo lunged for him again but was held back by several people, one being his friend from the auction. “Get him back, get him back!” Alfrid cried dramatically covering his face. 

“Bilbo, your hand,” his friend from the auction whispered. Bilbo looked down at his right hand and sure enough he had opened his previously split skin and blood was trickling down his hand onto the ground. “I’ll get him to a doctor,” his friend spoke, to Bard he thinks, he can’t be sure, after all the excitement his head is fuzzy and he doesn’t like the way his skin crawls by being too far from Thorin. 

“Take him to Oin, I’ll take this one to the other side of the compound.” Bard directed.

“Oin, yes,” Bilbo finally spoke. “I have an appointment with Oin, to check on the baby!” He loudly proclaimed and happily watched the colour drain from Alfrid’s face. His friend led him back to the door and led him through it and turned right and he realised the mistake he had made as he had turned right instead of straight on through the second set of blue doors. 

Oin is waiting impatiently for him, tapping his rectangular shaped boot against the floor in irritation. To Bilbo’s surprise Oin is an elderly dwarf with a receding hairline and holding an ear-trumpet up to his right ear. His scowling lips beneath a bushy grey beard morph into a thin line as he spies Bilbo’s bleeding hand and ushers him into the medical bay. Bilbo’s friend takes his leave and Bilbo regrets that for a second time he did not learn the boy’s name. 

“Always knew that Alfrid would get what’s coming to him.” Oin laughed, collecting cotton pads and antiseptic cream while Bilbo sat on the bed. Oin cleaned the reopen skin with cold water and Bilbo hissed as the cotton pad covered with the antiseptic cream wiped over the cuts. “Well that’s what you get for fighting,” Oin chided though there was amusement in his eyes. “Always thought my nephew would get the first shot in, knew someone would but you? You didn’t even make it on my list.” Bilbo wasn’t offended, he knew he posed no threat as a child of the West and normally they would be right but he was so full of anger, misplaced due to it not being his own but through the bond he shared with Thorin. Still secondary anger was no excuse but Alfrid had picked up on his insecurities that were plaguing him and the rage in Thorin was spilling over into his own subconscious that he had lashed out. 

“Your nephew?” Bilbo asked instead as Oin bandaged his hand. 

“Gimli, you might have seen him waddling around. Ginger haired, swollen with child, eight months gone.” 

“I know Gimli, he’s a friend.” 

“Lovely lad,” Oin praised and moved over to his work table making some concoction in a glass. “Good strong boy, spirited and brave, decided to venture here alone, he did. His parents were worried sick so I agreed to tag along taking up residence as a doctor in each colony he visited.” Oin finished stirring the clear liquid and then approached him and passed him the glass.

“What do I do with this?” Bilbo asked, thinking to drink it.

“Go through there,” Oin pointed to a room that looked very much like a bathroom. “And urinate in the glass.”

Bilbo balked. “Seriously?” 

“Do you want to know if you’re pregnant or not?” Bilbo nodded. “Then urinate in the glass and if the liquid turns blue it is positive.” Bilbo climbed off the bed with the glass in hand and made his way to the bathroom before pausing. 

“How long does it take to turn blue?” 

“If you are pregnant, immediately.” Bilbo nodded again and entered the bathroom and closed the door. Finding out if he was pregnant in this way wasn’t exactly how he had envisioned it. Still that was his fault for being uninformed and it wasn’t the test that counted but the result. He tried to think of that as he unzipped his fly and proceeded to do what the test dictated. He felt silly but he knew the result would be worth it, the only question he truly had was if he should take the glass to his room to show Thorin but considering how he gained the results that probably wasn’t such a good idea. Zipping up, Bilbo turned his attention to the glass but the liquid was not blue it was yellow. He gave it a minute but the results had not changed. 

He frowned wondering what he did wrong. He collected the failed test and exited the bathroom. “I’ve done something wrong, can I have another test?” 

Oin looked at him sadly. “Take a seat, laddie.” 

Bilbo felt a deadweight in his stomach. “Just another test, I won’t get it wrong this time.” 

“Sit down.” Bilbo did so and Oin took the glass from him, eyeing the content before placing a lid over it and leaving it with many other similar samples. “Bilbo…” Oin began what would be softly but because he was hard of hearing it was loud. 

“Another test, that’s all,” Bilbo interrupted having no desire to hear the words he feared. He wrung his hands nervously as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

“Bilbo, you’re not pregnant.” Bilbo rubbed his hand over his stomach as tears spilled down his cheeks, how could he mourn something that was never there? 

“Where did I go wrong?” He asked helplessly. 

“Not all heats result in pregnancy, that is just propaganda. If it were true, the world would cave in on itself under the weight of all the new bairns.” 

“He didn’t bite me,” Bilbo confessed and showed the doctor his unbitten scent gland. “Is that why it didn’t take?” 

Oin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he began to rock. “Breathe, okay, can you do that? Breathe deeply, in and out, good. Find your centre and calm down.”

“But the elders say…”

“Poppycock!” Oin snapped. “Don’t buy into their fairy tales, not all omegas are pregnant on their first try, it’s a myth. Now now don’t stress yourself, stress makes it harder to conceive. You’ll be pregnant when your body is ready to be pregnant and not before. I hear you’ve got yourself a strapping dwarven alpha, think of it this way, you’ll have a second heat with him next month, you would not have been able to enjoy him again so soon had you been pregnant.” Bilbo’s mind went to Thorin, of the light in his eyes when he called him Daddy and the many looks he cast towards his stomach. He had failed him; he had promised him the earth and gave him naught but ash. 

“I need this baby!” He cried desperately, clinging onto the dwarf. Thorin only flirted with him because he was ripe with his child and he wasn’t and the lie would tear them apart. “Please, I need this child.” Oin was clearly out of his element, patting him on the head to console him whilst trying to release himself from his death grip. 

“I could give you something for your nerves, help settle you down.” Bilbo let go of him and dropped his head in his hands weeping openly. “Maybe something to help you sleep?” Oin continued but Bilbo could only wail in response. “I’ll have someone escort you back to your room.” Oin announced though Bilbo gathered it was just a ruse so he could leave the room while Bilbo cried his heart out. 

He was sure he was pregnant; he was so sure that he carried a new life that he had done his duty. In nine months, he wanted to meet his son or daughter with his curls and Thorin’s blue eyes. He wanted to wear the scar across his abdomen with pride. He wanted Thorin to see his worth and see what he could give him and then Thorin would love him and gaze at him as Aragorn stared at Boromir. 

Now he was nothing but a failure and disappointment. He didn’t deserve Thorin, he never did, the dwarf was too good for him, he even said so. Bilbo had hitched his wagon to a star whilst poor Thorin got landed with an old empty wagon. 

More tears leaked from his eyes and his throat hurt and his shoulders shook from the force of his sobs. He didn’t notice the door open, he only saw the two pairs of feet in front of him one rectangular the other men’s footwear. 

“Come now Bilbo, let’s get you to bed.” Bilbo nodded weakly as his sorrow had sapped his strength and the man he did not know helped him to his feet. Oin was by his table again, stirring another concoction. Was it another pregnancy test? He was sure if he was given another it would turn blue, it would. 

“Drink this,” Oin ordered with as much authority as he could muster. “It will help you sleep.” Bilbo didn’t want to take it but both of his companions were eyeing him with disapproval so he drank it down in one gulp and grimaced at the bitter aftertaste. 

“Come now Bilbo, no more tears, which room is yours?” Bilbo took a staggering breath as the man led him from the medical bay and out into the parlour. 

“First floor, third door on the ri-right.” Bilbo stuttered and the man held him firmly by his side and helped him up the stairs and along the corridor, he opened the door as if to enter with him but he could not bear it, Thorin would ask, Thorin would know. “Please, I can do it myself, thank you.” The man eyed him sceptically but did as he bid and left the hobbit by the door. Bilbo took deep breaths and wiped away his tears. 

Once he was comfortable that he had some form of control he entered the room and closed and locked the door behind him. When he turned Thorin was sat up on his bed and he opened his mouth, possibly to say something scathing and Bilbo burst out in tears and fled to his bed. He laid prone, burying his face in the pillow while his body was wracked with sobs as he cried brokenly into the pillow. 

He could feel Thorin’s confusion as though it was palpable. It wasn’t everyday someone just looked at you and started crying. Thorin was no fool and though Bilbo had no desire to tell him he needn’t have to as Thorin worked out what had happened and he could feel nothing but sadness for him. 

How long he lay there, Bilbo did not know, seconds bled into minutes and minutes into hours. His breathing had slowed and his eyes felt heavy as he began to feel the effects of Oin’s medicine. The very air was thick with tension and sorrow that it made Bilbo struggle for breath. His skin prickled as he knew Thorin was looking at him and it was excruciating being under such scrutiny from the alpha that he had failed. Bilbo turned his head on the pillow and turned his eyes- red raw from crying- towards the cell. Thorin was stood staring back at him with a downturned mouth and expressive sad eyes. There was a touch of guilt in his expression and Bilbo realised it was not only he who had failed but the alpha had failed as well. 

“I don’t want a son,” Thorin began and Bilbo felt his heart break. “I can’t, not ag- I just can’t but…maybe a daughter?” Thorin offered and Bilbo felt a spark of hope he thought he had all but lost. Thorin wasn’t pushing him away because he was a useless omega, he was actually planning their future together regardless that Bilbo had failed him and filled him with false hope. “She’d have your curls and my eyes.” Bilbo nodded and bit his lip trying desperately not to sob while Thorin was talking to him. “Yeah,” Thorin agreed as though he had talked himself around and then he went and sat on his bed again. “So what is a hobbit hole like? Is it filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell?”

“Why do people always think that?” Bilbo asked, hoarsely. His throat ached but Thorin asked him a question and he was more than happy to describe the warmth and comfort of Bag End and he was glad of the distraction from the terrible loss he had been dealt. After he spoke of Bag End he told Thorin about the fireworks they had on Midsummer’s Eve and as he described the dancing beneath the party tree he finally succumbed to Oin’s sleeping potion.


	13. Chapter 13

By now, Bilbo reasoned Thorin was used to the disappointment, as he entered their room and shook his head sadly. Three months had past and with them came three more failed pregnancies tests. As usual no words were exchanged as Thorin lowered his head and moved away from the bars, dragging his feet before slumping down on the bed. 

Bilbo felt just as hopeless as he shut the door and walked over and sat on the end of his bed dropping his head into his hands. There were no words to speak that hadn’t been said before though the silence cut through him like a knife. Absently he rubbed over his unbitten scent gland convinced that was the cause of his failed pregnancies. It was a daft idea really, half the residents in Weathertop had children and were unbonded so there was no evidence to suggest that was the cause just his injured pride. 

Beside from abstaining from bonding and divulging personal information, Thorin had stopped fighting him, his confinement and his nature. It would be a stretch to say he was satisfied with their arrangement but he was certainly more accepting of it. Though from time to time he would act up for the strangest reasons. Changing one’s bedsheets should not be such a chore especially after a heat, but the way Thorin behaved one would think someone was trying to steal his soul. He was ridiculously possessive over his meagre belongings convinced that an omega would steal his things. He’d seen his behaviour in the mess hall, driven down to his basic instinct an alpha should have become aroused and overwhelmed by the interest and chosen a mate to mount there and then. Thorin hadn’t, he perceived their interest as a threat and convinced himself that they had designs on his food and would take it from him. Bilbo could only wonder what that omega did to Thorin to make him injure himself so badly to be rid of a name and damage his psyche in such a way he thought omegas wanted him for what he had and not for what he was. 

Thankfully he had found a way to change the bedding without Thorin becoming suspicious. He couldn’t open the door and change it himself due to his belief that Thorin would run and the dwarf had much longer legs and he didn’t want to risk it. He had tried asking for the sheets which waved a red flag and Thorin became terrifying when he raged about his things and thieving omegas. It was only when he challenged Thorin, implying he could not change the bedding that the dwarf responded offended and promptly changed the bedding to prove a point.

The clothes were another war entirely and he had to stoop rather low to get them off Thorin, or rather, the alpha. Before his heat had ended he had picked them up off the floor while his alpha slept and had them taken away to be clean and mended and measurements taken so more clothing could be made for him. The alpha never caught on to what he had done but Thorin did and he was sure the look of hurt and betrayal would haunt him till the end of his days. Thorin had sulked for weeks and when he pulled on Bard’s clothes and caught the scent of the brunet omega, a look of horror crossed his face. Bilbo didn’t like his alpha smelling like another omega either and though those clothes had been washed three times they were Bard’s and his scent was practically woven into the fabric. Thorin had given him the silent treatment and glared at him with his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. He might have been able to strike fear in his heart had he been wearing his own clothes but sat in Bard’s he looked like a drowned rat or a stubborn child playing at being an adult that it took every piece of Bilbo’s self-restraint not to laugh in his face. 

He had tried to ask what that nameless omega took from him and once again was treated to the far-fetched story of an omega stealing an alpha’s home. It was completely ridiculous but Thorin would not deviate from the script inside his head so Bilbo could only assume that the dwarf was mad. It wasn’t too bad if his alpha was insane, word had gotten around the compound that he was insane too and people now called him Mad Baggins. At least now people would leave them alone and know that they are meant for each other. 

In truth, he had feared Alfrid’s threat, he still feared it. Yes, they were a match but if Thorin would not bond and if he was infertile as he feared he was, the elders would take Thorin away. He had considered asking Thorin to run away with him but it was fanciful dream that would never come to pass. Thorin would say the right words, smile in the right way and touch him just so and it would all be a well-constructed lie. Tensions between them had simmered but Thorin was still locked in a cell and that spoke volumes about their relationship. True, Thorin had spoken about children with him, he’d convinced himself that a daughter would be fine and then went on to enquire about a hobbit hole. Bilbo thought he was sincere at the time but now he can see Thorin was only trying to ease his sadness as he was being crushed beneath the weight of it. 

Thorin was a passionate hothead but beneath the surface there was a calculating wily predator. He had even proven he had a flair for manipulation and someone that clever and resourceful was dangerous. Bilbo just had to accept that every word out of Thorin’s mouth had to be a lie. Thorin had claimed he didn’t want any children, he was very adamant about it so Bilbo had wondered what caused the change of heart. He had thought Thorin was simply lying, an alpha that didn’t desire children was beyond comprehension and then he talked of a son, and though he changed his words mid-speech, Bilbo had heard him say ‘not again.’ The alpha did have a son, though the way he spoke suggested the alpha had a son and no longer did. There was pain in his voice as there was when he first mentioned children so Bilbo knew he wasn’t lying then but he was lying now. 

It had taken him some time to realise why Thorin said he wanted a daughter. At first he thought he was just being paranoid since his alpha mated with him without fighting his nature and when the results came back negative he genuinely seemed upset. It wasn’t until his own words came back to him, promising him they’ll return to the Shire once he is pregnant. Thorin didn’t want a daughter, Thorin wanted to go back to the Shire and not Bag End but to Farmer Maggot’s field to reunite with his lover. A lover he very much intended to bond with. 

Bilbo glared at Thorin. He seemed upset, head down, eyes lowered and skin ashen but he couldn’t shake his jealousy and was convinced Thorin did not grieve for the negative result. Bilbo felt sick to his stomach and wrung his hands anxiously. 

“Who were you with in Farmer Maggot’s field?” He tries to ask casually and Thorin startles at the question before his face becomes neutral. 

“No one.” He answers easily, his expression unreadable. 

“We both know that’s not true. Give me their name,” it is impolite to demand an answer but Bilbo’s anger knew no propriety. 

“I said no one,” Thorin reiterates and blue eyes narrow in his direction. 

“Your lover,” Bilbo snaps, picking a fight.

“If that’s what you want to hear, Hobbit, then yes, my lover!” Bilbo doesn’t want to hear it and now he can’t decide if he’s lying or telling the truth. 

“What’s his name?”

“None of your business.” So he was in Farmer Maggot’s field with a male companion, that much he had just confessed. 

“Do you plan to bond with him?” Thorin’s neutral expression turns to one of incredulity.

“I know you are upset but I suggest you stop this line of questioning. Don’t pick a fight with me, you won’t win.” 

“Says the whore in the cell.” Thorin is up in an instant and at the bars looking murderous.

“Bilbo I am warning you.” Bilbo’s jaw drops at the use of his name. “What?” Thorin demands, confused by Bilbo’s expression.

“Bilbo, you called me Bilbo.”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but it is the first time you’ve used it. I wish the circumstances could have been different but still you used it.” Bilbo replied with a small smile.

“That’s because I know you and I know why you said what you just said. I am not your enemy and I refuse to be your punching bag. You are not the only one who feels loss, remember that when you next direct your anger towards me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo responds, covering his mouth and regretting every accusation. Thorin waves off his apology hopefully realising it was only cabin fever setting in. Since his fight with Alfrid Bilbo had only left his room three times in three months only to be given devastating news on each venture. He had no outlet for his anger and depression, he was left only with his thoughts and the alpha that took up the majority of his thoughts. It was only natural that he would vent his frustration on Thorin in the same way the dwarf had done to him. The fact that they remained unbonded was only fuel to his rage and ever suspicious mind. 

A knock on the door sounds the arrival of elevenses and Bilbo is thankful for the interruption from his and Thorin’s current stalemate. He eagerly marches over to the door and pulls it open with a flourish and is met with a white-blond haired elf holding a baby in his arms. Bilbo’s jaw moves but otherwise no words escape his mouth as he stares at the beautiful ethereal blue-eyed elf in awe.

“Can I help you?” Bilbo finally found his voice. The elf was young by his people’s standards and reminded him of Oreldîr with his pale skin and high cheekbones. The unfamiliar elf elbowed him out of the way and entered his room leaving Bilbo startled and searching for the right words. He had always believed that elves were elegant graceful creatures not rude entitled snobs. 

“Sorry about him,” a voice he recognized apologised from down the hall. Bilbo turned to see Gimli hurrying towards him also carrying a baby, one of the two-month-old twins he had given birth to.

“That’s your alpha?” Bilbo asked incredulously, pointing to the elven alpha behind him. He turned to see what the elf was up to and his heart stilled in terror as the elf was at the cell snapping at Thorin. 

“Oh don’t mind him,” Gimli spoke up behind him, making him jump. “You know alphas, territorial and quite unreasonable. He caught the scent of Thorin on me when I was near my due date if you remember.” Bilbo nodded, that he could remember. “Well I daresay it chafed on his nerves for quite a while so I promised him he could come out and play alpha male once the bairns were born and, well, a promise is a promise. I hope we’re not inconveniencing you?” 

“Not at all,” Bilbo answered quickly. “It is good to see your alpha out, when last we spoke he was still locked away.” Gimli nodded, red in the face.

“That’s on me, I’m afraid. I was so sure he would run but that was my own insecurity getting the better of me. It didn’t help that the jealous naysayers got under my skin, don’t let them do that to you. Don’t let them make you feel inferior because of your height, though by the sounds of things you are a better man than I. I heard you gave Alfrid a right good walloping, broke his nose and knocked him out, you ought to tell your alpha that, I’m sure he will be stirred.” Gimli elbowed him in the ribs good-naturedly. 

The talk of his alpha made Bilbo look towards his cell. The elf didn’t seem standoffish and Thorin didn’t looked cowed, not that he thought he would. This was Thorin’s territory and he was the alpha male though having an alpha trespass into his territory while bodily knocking his omega out of the way should have caused the alpha to defend what was his but Thorin didn’t really seem to care. He had no desire to attack the elf, a dwarf full of rage, chose not to fight and the elf, supposedly enraged was also choosing not to fight but rather talk like old friends. 

Maybe they were. 

“Gimli, where did you say Legolas is from?” Bilbo asked quietly as he tried to listen to the alphas talk. He knew a little Sindarin but that was of little help as the language they both used was harsh and guttural compared to the soft melody of the elven language. 

“Caught him not too far from the compound, right in the wide open, daft bugger. He tried to lose them in the hills but they caught him.” Bilbo gave him a meaningful look. “Oh you mean originally, the Greenwood, before it burnt down.” Bilbo nodded, there was not much of the Greenwood left as a forest fire destroyed the home of the woodland elves. Had Thorin passed by when the trees still stood and Legolas still had a home? 

He turns his attention back to the alphas and Legolas is holding his child up for Thorin to see. His manner is not boastful, in fact it seemed he was holding his child up for Thorin’s inspection while animatedly gesturing towards the window with his free hand. 

“Elladan,” Bilbo hears clearly standing out from the other harsher words. Legolas gestures towards Gimli and he approaches the cell and holds the child up so Thorin could see, had he been freed, Bilbo was quite sure he would be holding the babies but why? Who was he to Legolas? Who was he to Gimli? Why would an alpha’s opinion matter? 

“Elrohir,” Legolas speaks clearly and he realises those are the names of the twin boys. Gimli leaves Legolas’ side to join him once more and he holds the baby- Elrohir- out for him to hold. It would be rude not to and he had already given Gimli a wide berth, delaying the inevitable. 

He takes the small bundle in his arms, careful to support his head and he ignores the way his heart aches in his chest. Elrohir was small like his father with a few wisps of ginger hair to match though his colouring and dazzling blue eyes were all Legolas. Tears began to well in his eyes and he held them off as best he could, ignoring the sting. He looked over to the cell and though Legolas was still talking Thorin was looking directly at him holding a baby that was not their own with a touch of sadness on his face. 

“Give it time,” Gimli spoke as softly as he was able to. 

“Sorry?” Bilbo asked, confused as he was lost in his lover’s sad eyes for a moment. Gimli held out his arms suddenly uncomfortable and Bilbo was mildly insulted. What did Gimli honestly think he would do, take Elrohir and run? True, he had heard some stories of that happening but he wasn’t that kind of omega and just because his heart was breaking did not mean he could not wish them well. 

Bilbo carefully handed back the baby and thankfully Gimli did not eye him with suspicion but sorrow as though he feared passing him a child was mindlessly cruel. In a sense, it was but no harm was meant and no harm was done though the phantom weight of a child in his arms made him feel nauseous. 

“You’re trying too hard to get pregnant, just let it happen. Putting yourself under pressure makes it harder to conceive, just enjoy your heat and enjoy your alpha.” Gimli advised and Bilbo had a suspicion that Oin had coached him. 

In truth, he was thinking about becoming pregnant too much but that was what he was taught a heat was all about. Coming here to Weathertop people had tried to disabuse him of that notion but it was so ingrained in him he could not help the way he thought. Yes, he had found that sex was pleasurable but they had a duty first and foremost and nothing was more important than that. 

“I’ll try,” he answers but forty-nine years of brainwashing wasn’t so easily undone. 

“Do,” Gimli encourages. “Right best get these two fed, the lungs on them when they are displeased. Legolas?” Gimli called and the elf stopped mid-sentence to eye his omega and with a brisk nod he turned back to Thorin. 

“But if you do, tell him. He has a right to know.” Legolas finished in Westron. Thorin seemingly agreed with a nod of his own and then the alphas clutched each other’s forearms in a bond of brotherhood and then Legolas took his leave. 

“Annoying princeling!” Gimli huffed as the elf strode past him and out of the door. “I’ll see you soon, Bilbo, good luck with…everything.” Gimli waved his hand in Thorin’s general direction and left the room shouting at his bondmate whose melodious laughter floated on the air. 

Bilbo shut the door, choosing not to turn the key and approached the cell. “Do you know Legolas?” He realised he worded his question wrong, and as Thorin’s blue eyes narrowed he knew he had given him the perfect opportunity to shut down his line of questioning. 

“No.” Thorin answered crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. It was a barefaced lie and they both knew it. Bilbo chose not to push knowing how tetchy Thorin became when he was questioned about…well…anything, he made it extremely difficult to get to know him and if Thorin had his own way he would still be calling him Raven. 

A second knock at the door truly did sound the arrival of elevenses and Bilbo collected their food, passing Thorin’s his first before tucking into his own. Legolas’ words kept repeating in his mind ‘tell him, he has a right to know.’ Had they been discussing him? Who else could Thorin speak to? By deduction it had to be him so what did he have a right to know? 

He turned wondering if he could stare the truth out of Thorin when a strawberry hit him in the face. He looked down at the fruit on his bed bewildered. “This again, really?” He asked and picked up the strawberry and threw it back at Thorin delighting when it struck him in the eye. For a fraction of a second Thorin looked murderous but then he laughed, deep and jovial and Bilbo swore right then he loved him just a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, Monday is usually my update day but I love my Halloween. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment, it means a lot. Hope you all had a great Halloween x


	14. Chapter 14

“No!” Bilbo screamed and lifted the failed pregnancy test and flung it against the furthest wall. The glass shattered on impact and the content dripped down the wall, wetting the floor. Suddenly there was banging on the bathroom door but Bilbo’s anger hadn’t been satisfied. He went over to the window and dragged his arm across the sill, knocking vials and vases to the floor where the majority shattered. 

“Get this door open!” Bilbo heard Oin demand and he looked around the bathroom in dismay. He wanted to open the door before further damage was done but he did not have the strength to face anyone. Instead he sat on the toilet with the lid down and head in his hands and allowed himself to grieve. 

Some minutes later there was an awfully loud bang on the door, followed in quick succession by three more. The impact was centred on the door handle due to the bowing of the wood which led Bilbo to believe they were kicking the door open. After seven or eight kicks, it was not the door that gave way but the frame, bursting apart and freeing the lock. The door swung open and Bilbo heard Oin’s startled intake of breath before the dwarf poked his head around the corner and the look of worry on his face turned to one of relief.

“Oh Bilbo, I thought you had hurt yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo answered with a sniffle.

“What?” Oin shouted and Bilbo looked up to see he was without his ear trumpet. The dwarf held out his hand and Bilbo took it thankful that Oin was more concerned with his welfare than the mess he had made.

He was escorted back into the medical bay and encouraged to sit on one of the hardback leather seats while Oin made tea. He tried not to cry as he waited but the burden of another failed pregnancy test weighed heavily on him. It had been nine months; he should be welcoming a new born into the world.

Oin passed him a mug of tea and he drank quickly, ignoring the sting of heat on his tongue and the burn down his throat. It did nothing to settle his nerves and he only wanted to cry until the ache in his chest went away. Oin finished his drink slowly and when he lifted his ear trumpet, Bilbo knew they were going to have the talk he never wanted.

“I’m barren, aren’t I?” He said quickly. “I left it too long, I’m too old.” 

Oin shook his head. “None of the tests suggest that is true.”

“Then why can’t I get pregnant?” 

Oin looked sheepish. “Well there are more tests to perform and bloodwork however I think the problem is an obvious one.” Bilbo waited for the rest as it wasn’t obvious to him. “Lack of trying.” 

“Lack?” Bilbo asked insulted, thinking Oin dare imply he was not doing his duty. He and Thorin had both given in to their natures to produce a child and the negative result was not due to lack of trying. 

“Oh my, I’ve insulted you.” Oin said and placed down his mug. “Allow me to elaborate, I have an inkling you only lay with your alpha four times a month, am I correct?” Bilbo nodded. “A heat is the best window of opportunity to become pregnant but it is not the only window of opportunity.” Bilbo eyed Oin with uncertainty. “You pin all your hopes on four days, ignoring twenty-seven fertile days in the calendar. Imagine your chances if you were to use them.” Oin spoke kindly and gave him a meaningful look beneath grey bushy eyebrows. 

“I see, but he would never agree to lay with me outside of a heat.” It saddened him to know he was speaking the truth. He could open the cell for the alpha but for Thorin, to open the cell and enter all presumptuous? Thorin would kill him and damn the consequences. 

“Well then I don’t know what to suggest beyond bribery,” Oin offered with a shrug.

“A trade?” Bilbo asked aloud though mainly to himself. 

“Aye, a deal or a wager, as a dwarf he’d feel compelled to take what’s offered.” Bilbo nodded. “Make it good though, a dwarf will not be cheated, the trade must be fair sometimes worthwhile and heavily in the dwarf’s favour. If you are asking much, he will desire much more.” 

“Thank you, and I apologise for the mess in the bathroom.” 

“That’s alright laddie, grief is a terrible thing. Now go to your alpha and return to me in a month’s time and if his seed hasn’t taken I promise to take some blood and run further tests.” Bilbo nodded once again and stood and shook Oin’s hand.

“Thank you.” He then took his leave from the medical bay and walked slowly towards his room with his mind racing through possible scenarios. Was he asking for much? If so what could he possibly offer that was much more? What could Thorin want. What would make him accept his offer? Residing in his room he wanted for nothing, his belly was full, his clothes were cleaned and returned and he had a wardrobe full of choices now. He had never asked for anything.

Only that wasn’t true. 

‘Let me out you miserable hobbit.’

‘Open the door.’ 

‘Let me out you descendant of rats.’ 

It was early days then, before he had told Thorin the truth about security and how he would not get far. His warning had worked even on the alpha that had stared at the door longingly but knew the truth. So, it was possible that Thorin still desired freedom but knew he could not achieve it. 

Should he offer him his freedom? He always feared should he become pregnant and they leave for the Shire that Thorin would bolt. Offering him his freedom would put to bed that fear. It came down to a choice, what was more important, his alpha or a child. He would only need the one child, though he desired many more but with one his duty was done and he could return to Bag End with pride never having to lay with another alpha. Or he could keep Thorin in the hope that he would become pregnant during one of his heats and his alpha would choose to bond with him. 

Still battling his thoughts Bilbo entered his room and found Thorin standing at the bars waiting for the result. It hurt to shake his head to inform his alpha he had a useless omega. Thorin’s eyes lowered but he didn’t sit down immediately as he once did as disappointment came naturally to them now. 

Bilbo looked at him dressed in his new robes, a red undershirt and a black robe with a black surcoat and leather trousers. His hair was washed and combed as he tended to be well groomed these days a world away from the feral savage that was caught. His dark hair fell in soft waves down his back and even in grief he was stunning. Bilbo was reminded of an exotic bird and he almost laughed as Raven came to mind. Such beautiful creatures should not be caged, Thorin should not be caged. 

“Can I trust you?” He asked softly and realises his question was daft. How can he trust someone he did not know? Who was he, Raven, Thorin, a mean-spirited dwarf from Erebor who happened to know a woodland elf. No, he couldn’t trust him but he could trust what he did know of the dwarf and that was he was a dwarf of his word and he would go to the ends of the earth to honour it. 

Thorin lifts his head intrigued but his blue eyes are sparkling like shattered crystals as he had crushed his hopes again. “I want to offer you a deal,” he speaks quickly, resolute, because he never wants to see that expression on Thorin’s face again. 

“I am listening.” 

“I want a child,” he speaks quickly though the news is nothing new. “And you want freedom. Give me a child and I’ll set you free.” Thorin’s expression is unreadable as he digests his offer. 

“If you open the door I will be caught.” Thorin answered in a monotone and Bilbo realised the dwarf thought he meant to trick him. 

“If I did open the door, yes you would.” Bilbo concedes. “But what I propose is this. We leave the compound for a picnic, my scent gland covered so they do not see we are unbonded and they would not question it as I will smell like you by carrying our child. We will picnic near the hills and when the first hunt finishes you can run into hills getting as much distance before the evening hunt begins. I will return late so the guards at the gates will not be the same and not know you were ever with me. I will not raise the alarm; I will keep to my room and deny your departure for as long as possible.” 

Thorin blinked owlishly at him, stunned by his proposition. “Why are you doing this?” 

Bilbo approached the bars. “Because I love you, I do and I want you so much that it hurts to breathe when I think of my life without you but I want a child more.” 

Thorin pondered his offer and looked at him in such a way trying to detect any deceit. Finding none he stuck his hand out through the bars. “Deal.” 

Bilbo moved his own hand to take it but then realised Thorin knew only half of the terms of their contract. “You understand when I say I want a child I mean for you to lay with me every day until I become pregnant?”

Thorin grinned wolfishly. “Deal.” Bilbo shook his hand and wondered why he felt like he just made a deal with Sauron. He wanted Thorin and a child but he knew he couldn’t have his cake and eat it as well. He was taking a chance, a leap of faith, believing their time spent together without the captivity would ease the burden and Thorin would come to love him, especially when his belly swelled with their child and he would choose not to leave. 

When they released hands, Bilbo was at a loss for what to do. A hobbit shouldn’t make indecent proposals but he had and now he had to enforce their contract. “I…uh…well…” he stumbled over his words and waved his hand between them as though conducting an orchestra. 

“Shall we get started?” Thorin offered, speaking the words he found too difficult to say. Bilbo nodded and wet his lips finding that his mouth was suddenly dry. He ignored Thorin’s soft chuckle in regards to his apparent enthusiasm as he turned to fetch the key. He would need something more; he would need lubricant if he was to lay with Thorin outside of a heat. His body would not be so accommodating otherwise and though some slick would be produced it would not be enough. 

He collected the key from the left-side table and a bottle of lubricant from the right-side table. Apparently, it was complimentary of the colony but Bilbo found it was more presumptuous and crude though now that it was needed he found he could not argue with their foresight. He placed the small bottle into his trouser pocket and approached the cell once more, placing the key in the lock. 

He eyed Thorin, wondering if the dwarf could really be trusted and not rush him when he opened the door. Strangely Thorin was eyeing him similarly and he realised as much as he did not know or trust Thorin, that Thorin did not know or trust him. They were both taking a leap of faith, desperate to believe the other. 

Bilbo turned the key and pulled open the door. Thorin did not move from his position by the bars. Bilbo was reminded of their first time with the alpha stood in the exact same spot, unthreatening and unassuming simply waiting for permission. 

Bilbo entered and took the lubricant from his pocket and pointed at it struggling to find the words. It was silly really, after all they had done to each other, with each other. He knew the feel of him, the taste of him and yet he couldn’t speak to him. Thankfully Thorin had mastered the art of reading his animated hand gestures and he nodded and climbed onto the bed, laying in the centre on his back. Bilbo pushed down his three-quarter length trousers and smallclothes and sighed in relief as his shirt covered him to mid-thigh. He collected the bottle and turned to find Thorin propping a pillow beneath his head and staring at the ceiling giving him privacy. Bilbo opened the bottle and poured some of the none-smelling thick liquid onto his fingers. He kept his eyes on Thorin as he reached back and inserted a finger into his anus and was met with no resistance. He quickly added a second finger and immediately felt the difference as his passage was stretched and coaxed open. By the third finger he was sure he had bitten his bottom lip bloody as he tried to stifle the sounds he was making. He assumed he did a poor job as Thorin turned to watch him with heavy lidded eyes and his own hand strayed to his crotch, rubbing at the growing bulge confined in leather. Bilbo didn’t feel like such a deviant with Thorin watching him, in fact he felt bolstered under the alpha’s appraisal to such an extent he removed his fingers and added more lubricant so he could push all three back in with relative ease. His own cock swelled hearing Thorin’s stuttered breathing and deep intake of breath and he knew what his alpha was imagining. 

Believing he had done enough, Bilbo removed his fingers and approached the bed. Thorin moved his hand away to lay still by his side and Bilbo’s hands shook as he reached for the button on Thorin’s trousers. He’d done this before when they were both of sound mind and Thorin had grabbed his wrist and flung it as though it repulsed him. He cautiously unbuttoned the trousers, looking at Thorin’s face all the while, waiting on cornflower blue eyes to narrow and venom to spew from his gorgeous mouth. 

The vile words were never uttered and Bilbo took that as encouragement as he unzipped the trousers and released Thorin’s erection. Bilbo was fascinated by the swollen base where the knot would form and he rubbed over the extra skin before encircling his hand- wet with lubricant- around the impressive length. He worked his hand up and down the shaft spreading the lubricant evenly when he noticed a bead of ejaculate on the tip of his cock. He licked his lips hungrily desiring a taste but all too soon he was reminded of Thorin’s nasty jibe about him sucking cock for his bite. It was said months ago but the accusation still stung mostly due to the accuracy of it. 

“Hobbit…Bilbo,” Thorin amended wetting his dry lips. “You must stop.” Bilbo was snapped out of his reverie and saw that Thorin’s muscles were tense like a tightly coiled spring and realised that he had dragged him too close to the edge of pleasure. 

“Sorry,” he apologised and released his cock as though he had been burned. Thorin laughed and wiped the beads of sweat off his brow. He rested his hands there, above his head as Bilbo climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. It all seemed rather professional for someone who didn’t have a clue what they were doing and Thorin would not be helping as he was laying out like a feast waiting to be devoured. Bilbo appreciated the trust that position offered him, and he reached back, taking a hold of Thorin’s cock, careful to only grasp and not over stimulate as he manoeuvred himself into position. 

The blunt pressure against his opening meant he had found his mark and he pushed back until the thick head was inside him. He sat back allowing gravity to assist as he sunk further down Thorin’s hard cock, his stomach knotting in anxiety while Thorin grasped the headboard to keep from reaching for him. He looked wild and beautiful beneath him, clinging onto the frayed edges of his control, allowing Bilbo this, him. It was enough encouragement to see away his anxiety and he allowed himself to be fully impaled and he held still feeling both full and as though his skin was on fire. 

Bilbo rolled his hips experimentally delighting in Thorin’s deep satisfied moans. He did it again and his eyes fluttered closed as Thorin’s cock brushed his prostate. He ground on his lap adjusting to the girth of the cock inside him that was rubbing deliciously against nerve endings and threatening to send him insane from the sheer pleasure of it. 

The first rise of his hips was short, no more than an inch and he felt Thorin’s hip surge upwards as he came back down pushing deeply inside him. The pleasure was mind-numbing especially having such a forceful strong alpha beneath him. He tried again when he had gathered what little was left of his wits and enjoyed the way Thorin thrust up his hips to meet him. He managed to build up a rhythm rising no more than three or four inches and being soundly fucked on the way down. Thorin’s moans where like rumbling thunder whilst his own were higher in pitch and filled with need. 

He swayed, over stimulated when Thorin’s large hand grasped his cock and began to stroke, brushing his thumb over the weeping head of his cock. 

“Bilbo I need to tell you that…whoops!” Bilbo shrieked as Bofur’s voice sounded behind him. He immediately jumped off his alpha and pulled the quilt to hide Thorin’s nakedness as his shirt kept him covered. “I’ll leave you to it, I’ll just wait in the corridor.” Bofur said smiling devilishly and winking lewdly. 

Bilbo looked at Thorin apologetically before climbing off the bed and pulling his trousers back on. He quickly washed his hands in the sink and willed his erection away as he left the cell and then his own room, shutting the door behind him. 

Bofur was leaning against the wall, one foot against it while chewing his fingernails anxiously. When Bilbo shut the door, Bofur stood at attention and his anxiety vanished as his smirk returned. “Didn’t mean to be a cock block, you could have finished, I would have waited.” 

“Listening at the keyhole more like,” Bofur laughed, honest and open. 

“You’ve got me there, Master Baggins.” Bofur chuckled. “I can’t believe he’s a big a prude as you! You both keep your clothes on, sweet Mahal.” 

“No we don’t, we just…” Bilbo paused as Bofur leaned forward sniffing him. “What are you doing?” 

“You’re not in heat,” Bofur said suspiciously. 

“Not that it is any of your business, but no I’m not.”

“Well he’s finally seen sense at long last.” Bofur announced jovially. “Ere, thought you said you walked to Weathertop?”

Bilbo looked at Bofur perplexed. “I did, I can’t ride a pony.” Bofur grinned widely, all crooked teeth on display in a handsome roguish way. 

“Are you sure? I just caught you riding a stallion.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo cried indignantly, red in the face. 

Bofur sighed wistfully. “I’m going to miss your little prudish outbursts, they got me through many a dark day.” 

“Miss?” Bilbo enquired as the colour drained from his face. 

“I have to leave, my cousin has been in a mining accident and it’s pretty bad, Ma can’t cope. Gonna ease the burden a bit and pop into the Ered Luin colony from time to time, check out the stock.”

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

“Sure, if ye can read my chicken scratches,” Bofur said with a grin. “I’m gonna miss you, never said but yer my best pal in this place.” 

“Come here,” Bilbo said and opened his arms and embraced his friend. “You’re my best friend too.” As they pulled away Bofur wiped away a stray tear falling from Bilbo’s eye. 

“You’ll be back in the Shire soon; we’ll be even closer so don’t upset yourself. Go back in there and be with your alpha and give him one from me.”

“Bofur!”

“I really will miss that,” Bofur said through laughter and began to walk away backwards. “This isn’t goodbye it’s just see you later,” he claimed blowing exaggerated kisses. “Oh and Bilbo?” Bilbo looked at the retreating dwarf questioningly. “I’ve seen your alpha’s cock.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo snapped and listened as Bofur laughed until he was out of sight and his laughter floated on the air. 

Bilbo held back tears at Bofur’s departure and cursed his luck. Was there no end to his loss? He hadn’t spoken falsely, Bofur truly was his best friend. Sure, he was crude but he was a free spirit with a heart of gold and the day seemed less bright without him. 

Bilbo steeled his emotions and opened his door once more. His heart froze in his chest as the cell door was wide open and the cell was empty. Bilbo took slow measured steps into the room trying to even his breathing and not panic. There was only one way out of the room and it was through the door he had been stood at. 

There was a window. 

Bilbo’s breaths came quick and shallow as he couldn’t draw enough oxygen into his deprived lungs. He leaned against the wall that separated the bathroom from the main room as his legs felt weak and he was sure his strength would fail him. He continued on having to see the window to prove his worst fear. 

“Ah!” He wasn’t sure of the sound he made, whether it was fear or relief as the window was closed and Thorin was sat at his writing desk reading from a piece of parchment. He staggered backwards, all the way to his bed so he could sit down as he felt dizzy. 

Thorin lifted his head, eyeing him in confusion. “What is Morning Glory?” 

The question threw Bilbo. “It’s a plant.” Thorin nodded and continued to read. Bilbo had no literature on plants so why would Thorin ask about a plant and that one in particular? 

“What are you reading?” He demanded, though really there was no need. He knew exactly what he was reading. His mindless poetry. “Stop reading!” Bilbo insisted, blushing a deep crimson. Thorin ignored him. “You’ve no right!” 

That stopped Thorin and he lifted his head again with a look of incredulity on his face. “It is about me so one could argue I have the only right.” Thorin answered smugly.

“It’s not about you, it’s about Raven.” 

“Splitting hairs, Hobbit, besides I am Raven.” Thorin continued to read ending the argument and Bilbo despaired. Why hadn’t he put the poetry away? There were five pages of lovesick drivel and the inspiration for the sappy stanzas was reading them. He was never going to live this down, never. He’d told Thorin he loved him on numerous occasions but those words on that parchment…he meant every single one but still it was written to pass the time and were for his eyes only. 

He watched as Thorin paused in his reading to pull at the neck of his undershirt and eye his torso and shrugged and continued reading. What had he read? The stanza about the valley of his abdominals or was it ribs? He’d written it so long ago he could hardly remember what he had wrote though he knew it to be soul-bearing and extremely cringeworthy. 

When Thorin finally finished all five pages, the absolute git, Bilbo stood and slowly walked over to the cell. He was keen to continue what they were doing before but now Thorin had read his poetry he was just as keen to run away screaming and never seeing Thorin again. 

His subtle hint was lost on Thorin as the dwarf simply stared at him as though he had never seen him before. He had expected some jibes about his awful poetry, to which he would reply that he was not a poet but a storyteller though his defence was not needed as no criticism came. Thorin looked down at the desk, leafing through the parchments, counting them. There were five though there may as well be one hundred the way Thorin was behaving. 

“Shall we?” Bilbo asked, waving his hand towards the cell door. It was as bold as he could be. 

Thorin stood up and straightened the parchments, setting them aside as though they were sacred texts being demeaned by their close proximity to maps and family trees. Bilbo couldn’t decipher whether it was done in jest or for some other ulterior motive and he gave it little more thought as Thorin approached him. 

Then he walked right past him. 

Bilbo watched confused as Thorin climbed onto his bed and began drawing the thick velvet curtains closed. “Privacy at long last!” Thorin cheered from behind the curtain and he watched the curtains part and two boots fell to the floor. Bilbo could only watch as the minutes ticked by and clothes were thrown through the gap until he was sure the dwarf was naked. He wasn’t sure what to do. “Well?” Thorin asked expectantly. “Come join me, Hobbit-Bilbo, come join me, Bilbo.” Thorin amended and Bilbo quickly went to the door and locked it not wishing to be disturbed. He shed his clothes in record time, unconcerned about folding them and putting them away. 

He parted the curtains enough to climb onto the bed and shut them behind him dousing them both in darkness. “I can’t see a thing, perhaps we could part the curtains a little?” He suggested.

“No, I like this.”

“Does it remind you of the mountain?” Bilbo tries to glean a little more information. 

“Does it remind you of a hobbit hole?” Thorin countered. 

“No, we have candles.”

“Well Erebor had torches. I cannot believe you would suggest my mountain is a dark nasty hole.” 

“Your mountain? And I said no such thing however you have taken issue with my bed apparently.” The silence stretched between them as they listened to the other breathe. “Please, a little light?” Bilbo nigh on begged. 

Thorin’s hand brushed against his cheek in the darkness. “But isn’t it more fun like this?” 

“Oh yes,” Bilbo replied sarcastically. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets poked in the eye.”

“With a dick?” 

“I meant a stray hand…why would…never mind, I have a feeling I don’t want to know.” 

“I think you do,” Thorin whispered hotly against his ear while his bare torso pressed against his right arm. Bilbo turned towards him and reached out carefully to run his fingers through his hair. 

“I want to see your face; I ask only for a candle.” 

“Wonderful, and if it should fall and our tryst end in fire we can both burn together.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh and using the position of his hand now resting at the back of Thorin’s neck he guessed where his mouth would be and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “That was morbidly romantic.”

“I thought so, you’re not the only poet in this relationship.” Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat and not because Thorin had acknowledged his lovesick phrases as poetry but because he had acknowledged that there was a relationship between them. “Touch me,” Thorin ordered, catching a hold of his hand and pressing his lips against his fingers. “Feel your way around my body and take your pleasure.” Bilbo froze, worried about Thorin’s wording. 

“I’m not here just to take from you.”

“Do you believe I am not assertive, that I would allow you to take and nothing be given? You are wrong, Hobbit, and now I will tell you what you will do. I want you to straddle me as you did before and sit down on my cock and ride me. Then as my knot swells and you are screaming from the stretch of it, I want you to grind on my lap as you did before. I want to feel your tight walls around my cock, I want to hear your groans of pleasure as I touch that bundle of nerves inside you. I might even stroke your cock just to feel you tighten around my length as you cum covering my chest. After I’ve cum inside you and my knot has shrunk enough, I might push you onto your back, finger your gaping hole before fucking you into the mattress again.” Bilbo gave an audible gulp in response. An alpha should not tell an omega what to do but it was the most erotic thing he has ever heard and that voice, those promises, his cock was already hard and leaking from the thought of it. “Do as you’re told!” Thorin ordered and Bilbo quickly knocked him onto his back and scrambled over to straddle his hips.

His enthusiasm made him clumsy though the darkness didn’t help. After three false starts he finally found his mark and he impaled himself on the hard shaft that was leaking profusely as his own. His hands struggled to find purchase in the dark and he finally settled them on Thorin’s stomach. The abdominals were less defined now due to lack of exercise and seven meals a day and Bilbo ran his hands up and down his stomach delighting about the growth of it. Thorin made a noise of discontent as the hobbit caressed his stomach but his sadness was quashed as Bilbo raised his hips. He fell into rhythm as he did before emboldened by Thorin’s bruising grip on his thighs. 

He wished to see though he had no desire to upset Thorin so he kept his mouth shut and found pleasure in the darkness. The absence of light was comforting as he explored his carnal desires as no good hobbit should. The shadows would keep his secret and pass no judgement and even his alpha would not know the true bliss expressed on his face as he sought his pleasure first and pregnancy second. 

When Thorin’s knot swelled inside him he stilled his hips as they were locked together. His breath came out in stuttered gasps as he tried to comprehend what he was feeling. The pain and pleasure had blended together and due to Thorin’s increased scent his thoughts were in disarray and his head was swimming. Thorin’s hands moved to his hips and moved him on his lap making him fulfil his obligation. Drugged from the alpha pheromones he almost wanted to laugh as he had underestimated his alpha as Thorin always accused him of doing. He had naively believed that Thorin would lie back and think of Erebor and he had never been so glad to be mistaken. 

There were those that would detest his behaviour as he took guidance from Thorin’s hands and gyrated on his alpha’s lap but in the now and in the darkness, he did not care for their bigotry. When Thorin’s hand made its way to his shaft he was caught unaware and the added stimulation tipped him over the edge as he came though he knew not where his seed landed. Thorin reached his completion soon after and Bilbo was practically bowled over by the sensation of it. During a heat his body was accustomed to all an alpha had to offer and his body chemistry muted the majority of the sensations. Outside of a heat everything seemed amplified and intense in comparison. 

Thorin raised his legs, feet flat on the bed, knees bent so Bilbo could rest his back against them. They were still locked together as Bilbo came down from a high and as the pheromones decreased he was able to piece together the remnants of his mind after the devastating effects Thorin’s scent had on it. 

“Why did you do as I said?” Thorin asked as their breathing had evened out. 

It was a perplexing question for Bilbo’s fragile mind, possibly even a trick one but he knew he needed to answer he just didn’t know how. “Because you told me to.” Bilbo answered to the best of his ability. 

“But you’re an omega, you don’t have to listen to me, no one listens to me. My words are weightless and my threats are empty.” Thorin spoke forlornly and Bilbo desperately wished he could see his face. 

“I wanted to, your words mean something to me. Can you not see that I am your slave? I worship you, my alpha, my king.” Thorin made a choked sound at the latter. “You don’t like that? How about my God? You’ve read my work; you know I don’t speak falsely. Anything you have to say I will listen.” Stilted silence followed after his admission and Bilbo feared he had said too much. 

“I was once…” Thorin broke the silence but struggled to find the words. “In Erebor, I was…” he tried and failed again. “I was someone.” Bilbo understood, Thorin felt like he was stripped of his humanity and he was no longer someone and had become nothing. 

“You’re someone to me.” Bilbo tried to reassure him. 

“You know what, Master Baggins? I’m beginning to believe you.”


	15. Chapter 15

Bilbo woke to a blade of sun shining in his eyes. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before curling onto his side. He cracked his eyes open a fraction to see the space beside him vacant but there was a dent in the pillow and the faint smell of berries. He fully opened his eyes and wiped the sleep from the corners of them before looking down at the tangle of sheets and finding them cold to the touch. 

Sitting up, Bilbo found the end curtain had been opened allowing the sun to spill in through the window and chase the shadows to the corner of the bed. Thorin was sat at his desk once more, topless, with his head down as he furiously scribbled something on a piece of parchment.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked with a yawn. Thorin’s hand stilled and he dropped the piece of charcoal.

“Drawing you a map of Erebor.” He claimed and held up his map though the lines were faint and Bilbo could not see from so far away. “Thought I would add to your collection,” Thorin added with a wave of his hand implying the maps he had drawn of his journey so far. 

Explanation given, Thorin continued to work on his map while Bilbo left the bed and walked over to his wardrobe selecting a nightshirt and quickly pulled it on. The map intrigued him and so he walked over to the writing desk and looked over Thorin’s left shoulder at the map that was to be his. 

“The Lonely Mountain,” he read the words in the upper right corner beside the drawing of a mountain. Above the mountain there was a crude drawing of a dragon and instead of scales the word ‘Omega’ was written down the worm’s back. It was unusual for a map, as there was a column on the right side with a finger pointing towards the drawn mountain and strange text beneath; the same characters that were found on Thorin’s skin. “What is that?” He asked and pointed out the text. 

Thorin turned to look at him. “It is the key to the map.”

“So, like a riddle?” 

“In a way.” 

“I know a good riddle or two but those were in my own language and this leaves me at a loss. Handsome penmanship though, I must say.”

“Is that all you find handsome?” Thorin asked, teasingly and Bilbo was happily surprised. Thorin had seemingly changed overnight. Once the deal had been made the bad blood had vanished and the anger that gave him a headache at night was all but a distant echo. 

“Master Dwarf, I do believe you are fishing for compliments.” Thorin grinned in reply and ran his hand up Bilbo’s thigh that was wet with his seed. 

“What if I am?” Thorin challenged as his hand reached between his legs and a single finger pressed against his opening. Bilbo could only imagine that his face was red as he felt his cheeks burn as Thorin pressed the tip of his finger inside him. “Still tender from last night?” Thorin asked with concern and removed his finger much to Bilbo’s disappointment. Bilbo’s body did ache but the deep bone weary satisfaction he felt from their coupling was well worth it. “Have you never had sex outside of a heat?” Thorin asked and if Bilbo’s face wasn’t red before he was convinced it was now. 

“I…uh…I…” he struggled to find the words. It was a deeply personal question though his alpha had a right to know. “N-no, I’ve never…with anyone…just you.” He was quite sure he had admitted that to Thorin already but then he recalled he had told the alpha, and afterwards he had spoken whilst Thorin slept. 

He had heard stories- mainly from Bofur so their validity was questionable- that an alpha became passionate when they learnt of an untouched Omega. He did not expect Thorin to jump from his seat and recoil from him in horror, moving around the table so there was something between them. 

“Forgive me,” Thorin pleaded and Bilbo could only stare at him in confusion. “I was too blind; I could not see but I should have known. I read your words, I should have known!” Bilbo pressed his fingers against his temple in pain as Thorin’s fear, anger, sadness, a whole maelstrom of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Stop overthinking,” Bilbo called out trying to calm his stressed mate. “I forgive you, if it would help though I’m not quite sure what you’ve done to warrant such punishment on yourself.” 

“I took advantage of you.”

“When?” Bilbo snapped and Thorin gave him a meaningful look. “If I recall, it was I who offered you the deal so how could you take advantage when the idea was my own? You are handsome Thorin, but do not think I cannot say no to you, I am not so swayed by your looks.” His words were not disrespectful but honest to put the dwarf at ease and put to bed ludicrous thoughts. 

Thankfully the overabundance of thoughts and emotions were gone just as quick as they came and Thorin wasn’t offended by his words. “Are you not swayed?” Thorin asked while stroking a hand down his chest and yes, Bilbo was swayed, had always been swayed and had clearly been caught out on his lie. 

“You’ll do,” Bilbo answered with a sigh and Thorin laughed and looked at him in such a way his heart skipped a beat. The momentary joy he felt was crushed when Thorin moved his arm and he was able to see that scar once more that plagued his dreams. “Who hurt you?” 

Thorin looked at him and then stroked his fingers over the bite wound, re-directing his attention. “Warg.”

“Who?” Bilbo asked and pointed at the scar. Thorin’s hand covered the scar and he gave him a guarded look the same he was met with any time he mentioned Erebor or Thorin’s family. 

“You would not believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“You think me mad when I tell you an Omega stole my home; you’d think me insane if I told you about this scar. But I will say this, the Greenwood still stood when they left me for dead.” Bilbo merely gaped, with Thorin when one questioned was answered five more took its place. Who were they? Why leave him for dead? What was the relevance of the Greenwood still standing? Was it a timeline or was it an implication that the forest fire may not have been a natural disaster? Why was he in the Greenwood? Is that how he met Legolas? 

“I have no scars, just scraped knees as a lad.” Bilbo returned as Thorin was cautiously stepping away becoming cagey and uncomfortable with his questioning. He wanted to mention the gouges on Thorin’s chest but he knew enough about it. It was the name of the Omega that had stolen Thorin’s home, and Thorin was right about one thing, he did think he was mad with that outlandish tale. 

“Well I better have a wash,” Bilbo stated with a clap of his hands bringing attention to the change of conversation. He began to walk over to the bathroom thinking that would be the end of it. Thorin tended to withdraw into himself when he spoke too much about his life, so he was surprised when after he moved from the table Thorin took hold of his wrist. 

“Why?” Thorin asked pulling him closer so he could feel the heat from his body. 

“Why?” Bilbo returned feeling lightheaded when the alpha scent increased. He tried to free his wrist to no avail.

“You’re only going to be dirty again.” Thorin practically purred whilst pulling him closer. 

“Am I?” Bilbo timidly flirted back, looking up through his lashes. He felt as though Thorin was far too good for him and his hopeless flirtation was just that. Thorin stepped closer to him, crowding him, forcing him to take a step back as the look on Thorin’s face was different, dangerous and incredibly arousing. 

“Absolutely filthy,” Thorin promised with eyes as dark as blue irises. Bilbo took another step back until his posterior bumped the table ending his retreat. Thorin observed him with a tilt of his head before approaching him and pressing against him whilst placing his hands on the table either side of Bilbo’s hips caging the hobbit in his embrace. 

Bilbo could do nothing but stare at the alpha, dry-mouthed and eager for whatever the dwarf had in mind. He wasn’t afraid, though he wondered if he should be, as he hadn’t encountered this side of Thorin before. The alpha had been patient, after the deal Thorin had been accommodating but this was unadulterated lust. 

Without warning Thorin lunged forward swinging his arm across the desk sending maps fluttering to the floor and upsetting an inkwell. Thorin’s hands grabbed the back of his thighs pushing his nightshirt up and over the curve of his ass before the dwarf easily lifted him and laid him on his back on the table. Thorin hitched the nightshirt up with one hand, exposing Bilbo’s genitalia while his other hand worked on freeing his erection from his trousers. 

Bilbo was coherent enough to pull his nightshirt off and throw it before Thorin put a hand on his shoulder and forced him flat onto his back with a look of displeasure. Then his thighs were grabbed, parted and he felt himself being pulled towards the end of the table before Thorin stepped into the space between his legs. He was already slick from the previous night’s coupling but still his hands clawed for purchase against the table as Thorin’s cock pressed against his tender hole. 

Thorin was speaking, low and guttural as he pressed inside him rougher than he needed to be. Bilbo didn’t mind as the pain was a pleasure in itself and he locked his legs around the dwarf’s waist tightly daring him to continue his brutal pace. 

Challenge accepted, Thorin pulled out until only the head of his cock was still inside and he pushed back in with such force the table shifted a few inches back. Bilbo screamed in pleasure as it felt as though his body had been struck by lightning and was buzzing from the after effects. He covered his mouth when Thorin did it once more as he believed their behaviour was inconsiderate for the others that shared his level.

“No,” Thorin growled, forcibly removing his hand from his mouth. “I have earned them.” He dropped his hand, reprimanded and felt his fingertips land in a puddle of liquid. He brought his left hand up and found his fingertips stained with black ink and before he realised what he was doing he pressed them against Thorin’s neck, staining the alabaster skin like a poisonous love bite. 

Thorin brought his own hand to Bilbo’s throat, gripping not squeezing as his thrusts were shorter but faster. Bilbo could see he was only establishing his dominance with sexual overtones wrought with aggression. Clutching his throat was daring, reckless and potentially dangerous, everything his mate was. It was also a dominant position as Bilbo could do nothing but take short breaths and writhe beneath him and surrender to the pleasure of the flesh. He could sense that Thorin needed this, dominance, control, power, everything they had stripped from him. He was dependant on Thorin’s charity, he was not too blind to see that and if his pleasure was decided on Thorin’s whim then so be it. 

His hand fell into the ink once more and this time he moved his hand to Thorin’s chest, running ink-stained fingertips into the gouges above his heart. There an omega’s name had been ripped from the skin as it should as his name was the only name that deserved such a place. His eyes rolled back as his prostate gland was touched and Thorin gazed down at him wolfishly as he directed his attention to that spot. He was wild beneath his alpha, like an animal snared in a trap, he reached for Thorin with his inky touch staining his cheek, his mouth, his hip, anywhere he could reach.

Thorin removed his hand from his throat, clutching the table instead as he leaned further down. The touch of his lips was his undoing as his Bilbo’s cock erupted between them, marking his alpha. The kiss continued and Bilbo could feel the ink at the corner of Thorin’s mouth bleed onto his own lips forming their own sonnet from their joint mouths. 

When Thorin reached completion the culmination of his pleasure was expressed in moan between their joint mouths and Bilbo swallowed it as if it was his own. He was possessive of Thorin to a point where it actually frightened him. He could not claim ownership; he could not place his name in the gouges and lay claim to Thorin’s heart as he had forfeited that right. He had promised the dwarf freedom and it was a trust hard-won. Should he go back on his word, break that trust, then whatever was between them would perish and Thorin would be just as lost to him as if he had gone. 

Thorin breaks the kiss and leans back and then Bilbo watches him run his forefinger into the spilt ink. He then brings the finger to Bilbo’s chest and begins to draw shapes, the same ones as the ones on his skin and the map. He writes one single word before the ink dries on his finger and he eyes his handiwork with a smile.

“What does it say?” Bilbo asks hesitantly.

“Ghivashel.” Thorin answers simply.

Bilbo sighs exasperated. “You’re not going to tell me what that means, are you?” Thorin shakes his head. “Stubborn dwarf, can you let me up? My back aches.” Thorin moves his hips tearing a strangled cry from Bilbo’s throat from the overstimulation before he is able to part from him. “Now I really do need a wash.”

“Go into my cell.”

“To wash?” Bilbo asks, confused. 

“Do you trust me?” No, he doesn’t trust him, he trusts his word but him as a person, no. 

“Yes,” he answers hesitantly.

“Then go into my cell.” It’s a test of some sort and Bilbo gets up from the table. His maps are a mess and the carpet is stained with ink but at the end of the table untouched by their desire is his stack of poetry, he was half hoping they would be destroyed during their love making. 

He walks over to the cell with Thorin following uncomfortably close behind him and then he steps over the threshold and turns to look at the dwarf. Thorin shuts the door, the key remains in the lock and he touches it while staring at him through the bars. 

“I’m going to lock you in,” he says with little to no authority. It is both a test and a quest for power. 

“Okay,” Bilbo chirps merrily. The bed behind him is a mess and the sheets smell of Thorin and he can’t wait to slip naked between them and breathe in his alpha. 

“I’m turning the key in the lock,” Thorin says in disbelief. 

“Do it.”

“The door is locked; I’m taking the key out.” Thorin speaks slowly and takes the key from the lock. “I’m putting the key away,” he speaks his actions in disbelief awaiting Bilbo to call an end to this game and put him back in his place. When he doesn’t, Thorin places the key in the left-hand side table and returns to the cell. “Why are you letting me do this?” 

“Because you need this,” Bilbo replies honestly. “You are my equal and if you need to put me in this cell to realise that then so be it. Had birth rate not been so important the subjugation of alphas would not have happened and it could have quite easily been me in the prison cell…as it is now.” He laughs though he speaks the truth. 

“Are you honestly suggesting alphas could rule the world?” Thorin asked with a laugh.

“Yes,” Bilbo replied and Thorin sobered. “Bearers, omegas are the ones that replenish the population. Imagine a world that was not so devastated by war, what could an omega offer then? But an Alpha? Strong, intelligent, physically flawless, the world would be at his feet.”

“You have a strange mind, Master Baggins.” Thorin states and begins to walk away.

“How do you suppose alphas fell from grace?”

Thorin stops and turns. “Truly?” Bilbo nods. “Forgive me but I would say a barren omega, old and bitter. An alpha never ages out and all of the Elders are omegas, quite telling really. There should be Elder alphas too, but as there are not therein lies the problem. Who can speak for an alpha? We are voiceless and when we dare to oppose the regime we are silenced.” Bilbo was stunned into silence. He had never heard an alpha’s side of the argument before and now he had it made perfect sense. Had there been rebellions? Were they quashed before they gained momentum? It certainly sounded as though Thorin thought so and history was told by the victors. 

Bilbo watched as Thorin circled the room, rolling his shoulders and surveying his kingdom. He was still only wearing his trousers and he watched his toe curl into the soft carpet which he would have to replace. “Does my freedom unnerve you, Hobbit?” Thorin asked challengingly and Bilbo shook his head. 

“I would see you free, is it not a part of our agreement? Only…” he paused unsure how Thorin would take his request. “Please don’t leave this room,” don’t leave me, he wants to say. 

“Is this about the omega you punched?” 

Bilbo begins to nod when he realises he never told Thorin that. “Yes but who told you?”

“Legolas told me you defended my honour. I did not believe him at first, I thought you weak and selfish.” Bilbo’s nose twitched as he was quite sure the name calling between them had been done. Thorin collected his thoughts and looked at him in earnest. “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” From Thorin, a dwarf that had made many mistakes in his life, that admission was the best apology he would ever receive. 

“I would fight all who would dare wrest you from my arms.” He slaps a hand over his mouth though it is too late to take back his words. Thorin was not his, not anymore. 

Thorin looked distinctly uncomfortable and there was colour to his cheeks that was not there before. He coughed, clearing his throat before climbing onto the bed and parting the curtains so that they could see each other. Bilbo smiled grateful and climbed into Thorin’s bed and held back his noise of delight as it felt as though he was held in his alpha’s embrace. 

He looked up after squirming happily in Thorin’s sheets to find the dwarf laid on his side, left hand propping up his head as his right rubbed through the cum on his chest. He bit the quilt to stifle any sound as Thorin brought his finger to his mouth, deliberately slowly as he was aware he had an audience and he flicked his tongue out to taste. Bilbo felt faint with arousal but he clutched onto consciousness as though it was all he had. 

“No matter what side of the bars, you are still a tease.”

“Me?” Thorin asked, mock-offended. “You are the one touching yourself beneath my sheets and making those noises.”

“I was not touching myself.” 

“Splitting hairs again, Hobbit.”

“Bilbo.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin amended. He then laid on his back staring up at the canopy as though their conversation had finished. 

Bilbo had no desire to lose this comradery between them, and he was reminded of the day when Thorin comforted him after their first loss. “So what is Erebor like?” 

“Full of arseholes,” Thorin answered without hesitation and Bilbo could not help but laugh at his honest and rather rude response. 

“Sounds like Hardbottle,” he answered with a snigger. “Hey, did I ever tell you about the Sackville-Bagginses?”


	16. Chapter 16

Bilbo awoke choking. He brought his hand to his mouth and moved the obstruction from his throat and found saliva-damp long black hair. His mind took a moment to catch up with the evidence since he recalled sleeping in the cell alone while Thorin remained free and sleeping in his bed. He moved back slightly and felt a solid naked body spooning behind him. Thorin’s cock was limp but Bilbo moved against it, rubbing his posterior against Thorin’s crotch and he felt his cock begin to swell with interest. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo whispered though his companion did not answer so he assumed he was still asleep. Smiling deviously, Bilbo tried to arouse him with more gusto allowing Thorin’s semi-hard shaft to slip between his damp thighs as he took himself in hand. 

Thorin stirred behind him, rocking the bed as he shifted and then let out a long deep breath. “Well hello to you too.” He spoke breathlessly against Bilbo’s ear as he pressed himself firmly against his back. 

“Thought you were enjoying your freedom,” Bilbo whispered as a shiver ran down his spine as Thorin licked the shell of his ear. 

“Hmm I was,” Thorin muttered tiredly and Bilbo imagined his eyes were barely open. “Got lonely,” he said with a yawn. For a moment, Bilbo thought he had gone back to sleep before his arm snaked around his hip, knocking his hand aside and he took Bilbo’s cock into his own hand. “I think you enjoyed your captivity.”

“I did,” Bilbo agreed as Thorin began to stroke as he would soon feel the evidence of his arousal. “I imagined that I was your slave, captured during one of your conquests and added to your harem and I soon become your favourite, the one you visited the most, no, the only one you visit. No, there’s no harem, just you and me.” Bilbo got flustered winding himself up and Thorin released his hold and started to laugh, upsetting Bilbo further. Turning onto his side to face the dwarf, Bilbo crossed his arms in displeasure. “What is so funny?”

“You.” Thorin answered. “You are jealous over nothing.”

“Am I truly jealous over nothing?” Bilbo asks meaningfully hoping against hope that Thorin realises he is suspicious of his companion in Farmer Maggots field. 

“Well I don’t recall having a harem, seems like a dreadful oversight now.” Thorin teased and Bilbo pushed him onto his back and laid his leg over his as he nestled against his alpha’s side. “No,” Thorin suddenly said, yanking on his arm and forcing him to straddle his waist. “Did I give you permission to rest?” Bilbo gazed down at him confused. “Ride me, remind me why you are my best whore.” Thorin insisted and slapped his ass so hard he was sure it would leave a mark. “I forsook my harem for you, never mind the people I killed just so you would be mine.” A slow smile crossed Bilbo’s lips as he manoeuvred himself into position. 

“Yes Master,” he replied with a wink playing along with Thorin’s game. It seemed silly but there was something thrilling about playing a character and being someone else. It was freeing as he was no longer defined nor confined to the stereotype of sheltered hobbit from the Shire. He sat back and allowed Thorin’s cock to enter him and didn’t have to be red-faced and bashful. He assumed the character of favoured whore with abandon, reaching behind to clutch Thorin’s thighs as he rose and fell on his cock using him just as much as his master was using him. It wasn’t give and take it was only take and take as two unscrupulous characters writhed together in ecstasy, giving in to their most base instincts and chasing their own desires to their own selfish ends. 

“Whore.” Thorin panted beneath him and Bilbo immediately gripped the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming all over his alpha. The word was a slur and untrue but it sent a delicious tingle through his body regardless. He rode Thorin’s cock harder, as he began to stroke his cock from root to tip smearing pre-cum down his shaft. 

Thorin’s hands grasped the bars of the headboard to prevent himself from reaching for him. He regarded the hobbit with hooded eyes as his bottom lip was bitten red and the blood still stained his pearly white teeth making him appear feral. Bilbo wanted to kiss him then, to taste his blood and swallow it as if it were the sweetest nectar. His thoughts surprised him as Thorin tended to awaken parts of him he never knew existed. 

Would a slave kiss their master without permission? Bilbo did not care for the answer as he reached out and pulled Thorin’s hair enjoying the way his head jerked back and the long pale column of his throat was on display. He watched the apple of his throat bob slowly as Thorin swallowed thickly and the vein in his neck throbbed as his pulse quickened. Bilbo leaned down and ran his tongue up Thorin’s neck and over his proud jutting chin, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the bristles of his beard against his tongue. He gazed into Thorin’s eyes for a moment, accepting the challenge he found there and covered his lips with his own and plundered his mouth with his tongue. There was no finesse with his kiss only take-want-have as he licked the blood from his teeth barely tasting the coppery tang of blood. He broke the kiss and enjoyed the way Thorin’s head lifted to chase after his mouth. He licked his lower lip in concession before moving away completely and fell into a steady rhythm unconsciously in time with Thorin’s panted breath. 

He stroked his cock leisurely, no longer in a hurry to climax as he enjoyed the feeling of being full and he liked the freedom to express himself in a different way. He wondered if that was why Thorin kept the Raven ruse going for so long. If he was Raven then his only crime was trespassing and stealing but as himself he’d lost his home, and had been bitten and stabbed possibly because of his gender, he could understand wanting to step away from that life. 

Gathering his pre-cum on his finger, Bilbo began to trace the word that was written on his own chest, now faded as most of the ink had stained the white sheets. He did not know the definition of ‘ghivashel’ and he hoped for the best when he traced the runes on Thorin’s chest that it wasn’t something derogatory. Judging from the look of bliss on Thorin’s face he assumes he hadn’t inadvertently called him an arsehole. 

“Ghivashel,” Thorin whispered though Bilbo was unsure if he was only speaking the word that had been written or was addressing Bilbo. 

He assumed the latter when Thorin released his death-grip from the headboard and grabbed his hips. Turning his body, Thorin forced Bilbo down onto his back onto the mattress and snapped his hips taking the very breath from Bilbo’s lungs as he thrust inside him so hard the headboard slammed against the wall. Bilbo could only hold on tightly to him, as his legs locked around Thorin’s waist and his hands clawed for purchase raking down a sweat-slick back. Bilbo had thought it was take and take before and if it hadn’t been, it certainly was now as Thorin drove into him taking what he wanted and leaving Bilbo a crying mess beneath him. 

“Ghivashel,” he breathed into Thorin’s ear before pressing his head into the crook of his neck. He had anticipated the strangled cry in response, as he was well aware that word written on Thorin’s chest had inspired his savage lust. He was thankful that there was no room beyond his own as the headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust testing the integrity of the brick though his neighbours either side of his room might have something to say. 

He grasped a handful of Thorin’s hair and found it damp at the nape of his neck. He brushed it aside and licked at the perspiration he found there before sinking his teeth into the soft pale flesh. Thorin’s reaction was instantaneous as his body stilled while his cock pulsed inside him filling him with his seed. He licked over the indents of his teeth before pressing a hand between their bodies and stroking his own cock, once, twice, and that was enough as he came between them. 

“That was…that was different,” Bilbo finally found the words after capturing his breath. “It was mad but exciting. I love that side of you.” Thorin captured his mouth in a kiss and though no longer frenzied he kissed just as passionately. 

“I was, once.” Thorin answered after ending the kiss though Bilbo was unsure of the question. 

“Was what?”

“Mad.” Thorin replied simply, as though his confession was as simple as mentioning the weather. “There is a sickness some dwarves succumb to, known as Dragon Sickness or simply Gold Sickness.” Bilbo nodded having heard of Dragon Sickness in a tale or two but he chose not to speak. “There is a lot of gold in Erebor, I mean a lot. I don’t know how it happened but one day I’m going about my business and the next it felt like I was swimming in gold. It took me a long time to realise that I was not swimming, I was drowning. When I came back to myself, I guess I hurt too many people.” He says this with a sigh as tears pool in the corners of his eyes. “They outed me as an alpha and all that I had worked for, all I had forsaken in my sickness, once I saw the value of it was taken from me.” He wipes the tears that spill down his cheeks and Bilbo can only look on, sadly. “I know I was a prick when I was ill but I don’t think I was that much of a prick.” 

Bilbo lies beneath him unsure what to say. He had promised to listen not to advise and truly what advice could he possibly give? The fallout had happened decades ago but the blood had turned bad and the wounds had cut deep and the scars had not healed. Thorin’s face was passive, eyes vacant as he was mentally in another time and place Bilbo was not privy to.

“Thorin,” he clicked his fingers in front of the dwarf’s face to bring him back to the present. “It’s about time we washed this ink off us.” Thorin nodded, and finding his knot sufficiently deflated he pulled out of the hobbit and climbed off the bed. Bilbo followed unsteadily after him, trying hard not to waddle as his lower body ached tremendously. 

Thorin eyed him suspiciously when it took him longer than anticipated to join him in the bathroom so Bilbo placed his hand on his belly and lied easily. “Just taking precaution for Thorin the Second.”

“Third.”

“Sorry?” Bilbo asked making his way towards the sink. 

“I’m Thorin the Second.” Bilbo placed the plug in the sink and ran the hot tap.

“I thought you were the first.” He replied and added some soap to the water while retrieving two flannels beneath the sink. 

“That would be my Great Great Great Great Great grandad.” Bilbo eyed Thorin in awe.

“You’re interested in genealogy too?” He asked happily, pleasantly surprised that finally they shared the same interest. 

“A long time ago, it used to be very important to me.” Bilbo nodded and beckoned Thorin closer so he could wash off the ink on his neck. The ink from their lips had long since gone, swallowed between them and the dab on Thorin’s cheek had vanished too. Still ink remained on his neck, smeared on his scars and there were five circular prints on his left hip that to an untrained eye would appear to be bruises. 

Thorin sat on the counter and allowed Bilbo to stand in between his parted legs as he washed the ink from his neck. He had thought Thorin might misbehave but the dwarf was compliant though his penetrative stare was a little disconcerting. Bilbo wondered what it was Thorin was trying to find when he looked at him in such a way. Still, it was awfully distracting as he just wanted to stare back at him and get lost in his eyes.

“It’s rude to stare,” he admonished, rinsing the flannel in the sink before returning to the task at hand. There was still a shadow of the mark upon his neck that would fade in due course so he started to clean the scar over his heart. “Draw a picture, it will last longer!” He hissed as Thorin would not relent. 

“May I?”

“What? Stare?” 

“Draw your portrait.”

“I…uh…sure…. you can draw?” 

“I am a dwarf of many talents.” Thorin replied with a lewd wink. 

“Indeed, and full of surprises.”

“As are you, Master Baggins.” Bilbo looked up then, surprised by the compliment and Thorin’s soft tone of voice. He immediately got caught in Thorin’s gaze and by mutual attraction they leaned towards one another and shared a chaste kiss that left much to be desired but was fulfilling in its own way. 

Bilbo parted his lips desperate to tell Thorin how much he meant to him but deep down he knew he could not. Instead he adverted his gaze and continued to wash the ink from his breast and hip and cleaned his stomach of his own release. He moved his hand down further to clean his cock without fondling, no-nonsense and clinical. It was the safer option rather than throwing himself down at his feet begging him not to leave him. 

“You can wash your hair in the bathtub if you want.” He offered, pulling the plug from the sink and tossing the flannel into a laundry basket. Thorin nodded and climbed off the counter and walked towards the bathtub as the sink drained. Bilbo replaced the plug and ran some more water, adding some soap to it. He turned off the tap but heard running water behind him and assumed Thorin was washing his hair. Bilbo picked up the second flannel and began to wash off the faded word on his chest. The ink had soaked into his skin so it took some doing but eventually it came clean and he washed his torso, beneath his arms, between his thighs and eventually between his legs. He pulled the plug once more and tossed the second flannel into the laundry basket when he felt water flick across his back.

He turned to find Thorin standing behind him with his long-wet hair flicked over one shoulder. The dwarf smirked in reply before suddenly bolting out of the bathroom. Bilbo did not know what possessed him but he gave chase and found that Thorin had remained in the room and was pulling the cell door closed, shutting himself inside. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo questioned and tried to open the unlocked door but Thorin held it, preventing it from opening. 

“Call me Raven,” Thorin whispered huskily and Bilbo smiled in response.

“You’re mad.” Bilbo laughed and shook his head. 

“Positively insane,” Thorin agreed. 

“They’ll lock you away.” Bilbo commented realising they were playing a new game. 

“In the darkest cell,” Thorin agreed moving from the door along the bars. 

“No light.”

“No visitors.”

“Lonely.”

“Horny,” Thorin counters. “Desperate for a touch from a phantom lover I cannot see.” Bilbo reached between the bars and rested the palm of his hand against Thorin’s cheek. Thorin leaned into his touch as though he truly was starved of affection and then grabbed the back of his hand, holding onto something tangible and then pressed grateful kisses against his palm. 

“Can you hear your lover in the dark?” Bilbo asked as Thorin pressed kisses across his wrist. 

“Oh yes, my shadow lover is quite the vocal slut.” Thorin then pulled on his arm, pulling him flush against the bars as he continued to kiss his way up his forearm. With his right arm out of commission, Bilbo reached in with his left and raked his nails down Thorin’s chest leaving faint red scratches in their wake. Thorin’s body quivered beneath his touch and had he not known better he could believe that Thorin was touch starved and lonely.

Bilbo pulled his right arm free when Thorin licked up his bicep and the dwarf clutched at nothing truly chasing shadows. “No, don’t leave me.” His words were harrowing, a reflection of his own loneliness that had almost consumed him. 

“Never,” Bilbo whispered taking the opportunity to speak his heart. “I would see you free and bathed in the golden light of the sun. I would see to it that you were cherished and make sure that you were loved.” Thorin’s expression changed and he realised despite their games he had revealed too much. “I would see to it that you were tied to my bed and soundly fucked.” It worried him how easily such filth passed his lips with hardly a thought. He was certainly not the same hobbit that had arrived at Weathertop over a year ago. 

“Touch me, kiss me.” Thorin insisted, blindly reaching through the bars. His eyes were closed as he played his game immersing himself into his pretend surroundings. Bilbo considered doing the same but then it would be the blind leading the blind. Instead he guided Thorin’s reaching hand to the nape of his neck and allowed Thorin to guide his head towards the bars so they could share a frenzied kiss that tasted of desperation. “Touch me,” Thorin insisted between ravenous kisses and tried to reach for his hand though he was only clutching empty space. 

Bilbo reached through the bars once again and ran his finger around his right nipple, briefly pinching it before dragging his hand down his chest and settling it on his wider belly. He felt Thorin breathe in trying to re-defined his abdominals as his current weight upset him, so Bilbo moved his hand down further and took a hold of his cock. He liked the size of Thorin’s stomach but knowing how much upset it was causing he would have to see if Thorin could have some time in the training yard. 

Thorin thrust into his loose grip, desperate for friction, fucking his hand as if he hadn’t had relief in years. Bilbo briefly wondered if he should drop to his knees now that Thorin’s eyes were closed and take him into his mouth. Would the game stop, or would Thorin as Raven continue and fuck his throat with wild abandon? The idea was appealing but by the feel of Thorin’s cock the dwarf was too far gone to play that game. 

“Turn around,” Thorin requested and Bilbo was roused from his thoughts. “I’m going to fuck you, let me?” His words started assertive but ended in a plea and Bilbo could deny Thorin nothing. 

He turned and pressed his posterior against the bars feeling faintly ridiculous until the wet head of Thorin’s cock pressed against his opening and pushed inside. Both of Thorin’s arms came through the bars, his left curling around his chest, holding him while his right stroked down his flank and took his cock in hand. 

Bilbo could only stare at the door wondering if he had locked it. He was trapped in that position as Thorin fucked him from behind and worked his cock so diligently he was soon close to the edge himself. He let himself be used and reached back through the bars touching Thorin wherever he could. Bilbo felt Thorin’s thrust falter before he was filled with his warm release and he fell against the bars surrendering to his own pleasure as his cum shot out and stained the carpet once again. 

After a few moments, Bilbo tried to pull away but the knot kept them tied together. “We didn’t think this through,” Bilbo said with a laugh and he could hear Thorin chuckle behind him. He rested against the bars once again thankful that they were warmed by their previous activity. “We’re going to have to purchase a new carpet before we leave.” 

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have any money. Besides you’re an Omega, aren’t you given everything?” Thorin asked with some distaste. 

“Within reason, I couldn’t very well tell them to name me King.” 

“Imagine that, you the King of the Shire, things might have worked out differently.” Thorin said wistfully and Bilbo wondered if he wanted to be elevated by his position. 

“There is no royalty in the Shire.” 

“Being an Omega is like being royalty,” Thorin countered.

“Yes, a thousand times removed from the throne. When I presented as Omega it was the worst day of my life.” He heard Thorin’s startled intake of breath before he continued. “I wanted children but selfishly I wanted to be remembered. It’s hard to be special when millions of others share the same trait that makes you special.” He paused having never admitting that to anyone, nevermind accepting it himself. 

“I think you’re special.” Thorin whispered so quietly he was sure he had misheard.


	17. Chapter 17

Bilbo closed the door with a soft click and lent against it. Thorin was inside the cell, the door standing open as he laid prone on his bed reading from a stack of parchments. He threw a look over his shoulder when he heard the click of the door and quickly stuffed the parchments beneath his pillow and climbed off the bed. 

His approach was quick but began to falter halfway when he failed to decipher Bilbo’s expression. “Well?” He asked unsure, approaching with caution. 

Bilbo parted his lips to give his answer but he choked on the word as tears streamed down his cheeks and he could only shake his head in reply. The expression on Thorin’s face hurt that little bit more and Bilbo wanted to wail in response as if his sadness could be expelled in one primal scream. 

“Oh Bilbo,” Thorin was at a loss for words and instead pulled the hobbit into his arms and held him tightly. Bilbo buried his face in Thorin’s surcoat and dampened the fur with his tears. How long they stood like that neither could be sure but it was long enough for Thorin to feel the strain in his arms but he refused to relinquish his hold, resolute to be there for however long Bilbo needed him. 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo mumbled against his coat. 

“Why are you sorry?” Thorin asked bewildered, as if Bilbo hadn’t shattered his world with every negative result. 

“You’ve lost a son before and I keep disappointing you.” Bilbo said into Thorin’s coat unable to make eye contact with the dwarf. Large hands grasped his biceps and pushed him back slightly but Bilbo kept his head down until Thorin was forced to release one arm and tilt his chin up. 

“You have never disappointed me, and I never had a son.” Thorin spoke softly but Bilbo smacked his hand from his chin and struggled out of his remaining grip. 

“Don’t lie to me!” Bilbo snapped, freeing himself. “I heard you.”

“You heard wrong! He wasn’t my son, not exactly.” Thorin’s temper had begun to rise but as quickly as it soared it plummeted when he said the word son. He walked over to Bilbo’s bed and sat at the end of it and dropped his head in his hands allowing his hair to shield his face. “He was my nephew, I had two of them, my sister sons, Fíli and Kíli. Their father died in a mining accident while Kíli was still in the womb and Fíli was no more than five. My sister, Dís, was beyond grief. We had lost our mother suddenly you see and our father was quick to follow as his heart was broken so it became too much to bear for her. I took Fíli so Dís could rest and focus on the baby she had yet to deliver. I was so taken with him, I hadn’t realised how much I desired a child until I had a little shadow mimicking me. The same went for Kíli, as far as I was concerned they were as good as mine. I could not have children of my own for fear of being found out as an alpha so I named Fíli as my heir.” He says the latter with distaste and finally looks up at Bilbo. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

“The Omega that stole your home,” Bilbo whispered in shock, having always believed that Thorin had made that story up to garner sympathy. “Fíli outed you.” Thorin nodded and wiped away a stray tear. 

“That is why I do not want a son, because I cannot raise them correctly. I gave that boy everything and still he wanted more and Kíli was no better, siding with his brother and feeding gossip into the rumour mill. My own flesh and blood, family, what a crock.” Thorin shrugs his coat off and then stands freeing himself of his original blue robe and a navy undershirt leaving himself bare chested as he approaches Bilbo. He takes the hobbit’s hand and brings it to his chest so his fingertips rest against the scars. “Fíli,” he whispers, speaking a name that was torn from his chest. He moved Bilbo’s fingers slightly across. “Kíli,” the tattoo is warped by the scarring that Bilbo hadn’t realised there had been two names above his heart. Thorin guides his hand upwards, along a geometric shape to the next name unmarred by self-harm, “Dís.” 

Bilbo shakes his head in wonderment finally realising what Thorin’s tattoo was, a family tree. The space above his heart wasn’t for an Omega who owned it but for his successor, a son, an heir, a betrayer. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo spoke honestly. “All this time I was jealous because I thought an Omega stole your heart.”

“He didn’t steal it,” Thorin confirmed, taking hold of his hand. “He just broke it.” Bilbo’s tears renewed, no longer in sorrow for another failed pregnancy but in sympathy for his alpha. “It’s okay, I’ll run you a bath.” 

Bilbo laughed in his grief. “You are hurting and yet you comfort me.”

“My wounds are old, yours are not. Plus, you forget that I am the one that promised you a child. You are not the disappointment, Bilbo, I am.” 

“No, you’re not,” Bilbo was quick to reply. “Never think that because it isn’t true.” 

“Fine,” Thorin said with a devious smile. “If I cannot speak negatively about myself then neither can you.” He’d been tricked, Thorin knew he would come to his defence if he took the blame himself. It was almost startling to realise just how well Thorin was getting to know him. “I’ll run that bath.” He released Bilbo’s hand and disappeared into the bathroom and Bilbo stood still dumbstruck as he heard the taps turn followed by the thunder of water filling the tub. 

He managed to keep his intrigue at bay for some minutes before he succumbed to temptation and entered the bathroom. The tub was half full and frothing with bubbles as Thorin knelt beside it dragging his hand to and fro in the water to test the temperature. Thorin acknowledged his entrance with a glance over his shoulder followed by a pointed up and down look. 

“Undress, Master Baggins, the bath is almost ready.” Bilbo removed his jacket and unbuttoned his gold waistcoat. He had dressed his best for his visit with Oin convinced the formula would turn blue and then he could announce his pregnancy. It would be a boastful thing to do but already he was known as a braggart and Alfrid was still causing trouble for him approaching the elders with his concerns daily. 

“Will you be joining me?” Bilbo asked as Thorin stood, shirtless and uncaring about his partial nudity. 

Thorin looked at him startled, as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “Not today, but I like the way you think.” He said with a wink and flicked his fingers towards the hobbit, wetting his face. 

Bilbo finished undressing while Thorin turned off the taps and collected towels. He entered the tub behind Thorin’s back and found the temperature of the water satisfactory and he sat down and then laid down momentarily submerging his head to wet his honeyed curls. When he broke through the surface and sat up he found Thorin knelt beside the tub once more with a flannel in hand. He watched quietly as Thorin dunked the flannel into the water and then brought it to the hobbit’s throat, gently washing his neck in long smooth strokes. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably as Thorin wet the flannel again and washed his shoulders and then down his right arm all the way to his hand. He was attentive and diligent in his service and Bilbo could do naught but stare at him as he cleaned his left arm. 

“It’s rude to stare,” Thorin said in jest mimicking an old admonishment. “But that does remind me,” he rinsed the flannel and left it on the side before drying his hands on a towel and exiting the bathroom. He returned moments later with a single piece of parchment and he knelt down and held it out for Bilbo to see. 

Bilbo looked at the picture of what he assumed was himself. It was a very good drawing if a little heavy with the shading on the left side of his neck and face. His hair was a mess but he could not argue since even when combed his hair remained in disarray falling where it willed. What struck him most about the picture was how old he looked and how severe when his lips were drawn closed without the barest hint of a smile. He looked plain. 

“Is this how you see me?” He turned and looked at Thorin and his proud smile faltered beneath his scrutiny. 

“You do not like it?” Thorin withdrew the picture and gazed at his own work clearly trying to see how he had caused offense. 

“What, no I love it,” Bilbo backtracked. “I meant it is odd seeing myself from someone else’s prospective. I adore it, Thorin, thank you.” He held out a wet hand to take the drawing but Thorin scooted away from him. 

“Oh no, this is mine. I promised you the map, Master Baggins and that you may keep but not this.” He put more space between them, clutching the picture to his chest and Bilbo chose not to push. It was a misunderstanding and he hadn’t the energy to endure another thieving omega tirade and truly he thought they were past all of that. 

Thorin got up and left the bathroom and returned without the picture and with a smile on his face as if a moment ago hadn’t happened. Bilbo worried for his sanity, he had always worried about Thorin’s mental stability when as Raven he would play nicely and then turn. Thorin had admitted to being mad once brought on by an abundance of gold but Bilbo wondered if it was brought on or brought out. He might have always been sick, the madness lurking just beneath his skin waiting to be triggered and the Valar knew Thorin had been pushed enough to trigger many episodes. 

Thorin knelt by the tub again and picked up the flannel and started washing Bilbo’s chest with the upmost care. Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what to do so he simply followed Thorin’s direction and ignored what happened a moment ago, instead he ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair and basked in the novelty of it. Thorin turned his gaze to him and he was sure he could drown in his sapphire eyes and lose himself indefinitely. Thorin smiled then, beauty personified and Bilbo wanted to run to the top of the building and stand out on the battlements and scream of his love for his impossible alpha. 

“I love you,” it is a cruel thing to say. He’s being selfish using underhanded means to make the alpha stay. 

“When I was caught in that field I thought that was it. That my life couldn’t possibly get any worse. Then as I was tied up in that back room suddenly I was filled with all this nervous energy and I knew then that my One had come for me. I couldn’t accept it, I fought it, I denied it and I almost got away that night too. Then I was forced out and I knew exactly where you stood but I refused to look at you, I couldn’t. The minute your pipe struck that bastard in the eye I knew you were mine.” Bilbo swallowed thickly and stared at Thorin in awe. “I still denied it, kept on denying it. It took me a long time to realise that being caught was the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Do you believe in fate? I was meant to be caught in that field, I was meant to be in that room and I was meant to meet you that night. I was meant for you, Bilbo.” 

Bilbo could only gape, slacked jawed and wordless. Before he could even comprehend the enormity of Thorin’s confession the dwarf had leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss. He followed Thorin’s lead and returned the kiss with as much ardour as he grasped the back of Thorin’s neck and held him in place unwilling to let him go. The hand washing his chest hadn’t ceased to move during Thorin’s confession but now it moved with purpose, moving the flannel down his stomach and then further still to wrap around his engorged shaft.

Bilbo felt enslaved. Incarcerated by his feelings and confined by his love. He could taste the sweet taste of victory and the bitter tang of defeat in each devouring kiss. He was undone and yet whole. His hips arched into Thorin’s touch, his erection jutting proudly from the water as he felt the stirring in his groin brought close to the edge by Thorin’s words before his actions. He reaches completion far sooner than he would have liked as his seed spills onto the flannel and Thorin breaks the kiss to place the flannel in the laundry basket. 

Bilbo can only stare. He had come to Thorin with terrible news and now this. Should they talk? He cannot think nor find any semblance of control. He had been in the position of power but his control had been sapped, eked out bit by bit by the opening of a mouth, of legs, a heart and finally a cell door. 

“Finish up in here, I’ll have something to cheer you up in the bedroom.” It is a merit to Bilbo’s self that he didn’t slip and drown from such a heated promise. Thorin winks and then leaves the bathroom closing the door behind him. Bilbo abruptly stands and exits the tub and scrubs his body dry eager for what awaited him. He eyed his clothes on the floor wondering if he should dress though judging from the look in Thorin’s eyes clothing would not be necessary. However, if he was wrong how presumptuous would that look? Thorin might wish to cheer him with wine, food or song, because he was a hobbit and easy to please. 

He wraps the towel around his waist as a compromise. Thorin had already seen to his carnal desire so perhaps reciprocation was in order. He pulls the plug and exits the bathroom and immediately freezes, eyes wide and mouth watering. 

“So, I didn’t imagine it.” Thorin says with a self-satisfied smile. “During a rut, it’s like being under water everything becomes distorted so I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.” He parts his legs wider, as naked as a new born aside from his furred boots. “I’m glad that was real because I’d look really stupid right now.” 

Bilbo shakes his head. “No,” he answers and then swallows before licking his lower lip. “You look gorgeous.” There’s an indiscernible arch of Thorin’s eyebrow at that compliment and Bilbo is surprised to find he is not used to them. 

Bilbo approaches the bed and then kneels down between Thorin’s parted legs much to the dwarf’s surprise. His hands reach for the back of Thorin’s calves and he rubs along the black fur that was interspersed with grey. Was it from a warg or a bear? The leather bindings on both boots are gone and the fur had been cleaned revealing Thorin’s intent. He presses a kiss to Thorin’s right kneecap and runs the tip of his tongue against a scar he finds there. The boots reach just below the knee and from there the hair on Thorin’s legs is sparse.

He presses a kiss to the scar once more and notices Thorin’s hands grab fistfuls of the quilt as his breath comes out quicker and rugged. Bilbo looks up and finds him a beautiful mess, back arched, hair thrown back, wanting but denying himself. The cause of his distress is the very prominent erection between his thighs undoubtedly caused by the close proximity to Bilbo’s mouth. 

Bilbo licked his lips unsure of himself since Thorin had stung him early on making him feel low and depraved for his curiosity. Thorin hadn’t truly meant it since he had just come out of a rut and neither were in the right headspace at the time and emotions were still raw. Even if he had meant it, it was said long ago by a dwarf using another name, not Thorin who had just confessed his love for him. 

He runs his hands up Thorin’s thighs and eyes his cock, hard and red flushed with blood. He licks at it, wetting his length as though it was a prelude to intercourse. Why he then presses his cheek against Thorin’s cock he does not know, the act should be considered filthy and demeaning but he watches Thorin’s heaving chest and the penetrative gaze of his eyes and he continues pressing kisses against the shaft. Thorin’s eyes do not leave his face the entire time as if it would pain him to miss a single moment. He enjoys having such an avid audience as it emboldens him and he seductively licks his lips and watches Thorin’s tongue slide over his bottom lip making it glisten enticingly. He wishes to kiss him once more as the taste of his lips was all that he could want but the cock before him demanded attention and he closes his lips around the tip of his cock and gently sucks while his right hand wraps around the base of his cock. Teasingly he flicks his tongue against the slit and watches Thorin’s hips rise off the mattress and he quickly moves away. 

He gathered his courage and leaned forward again enclosing his lips over the head and slowly took him into his mouth, swallowing around his member as a burst of pre-cum coated his tongue. He looks up through his lashes to see Thorin’s head thrown back and lips parted to emit breathy moans as he takes him further into his mouth. He takes his time taking as much as he can and then pulling back before it got too much only to swallow him down once more. He builds a rhythm of his own mindful of his teeth as he bobs his head and allows his hand to come into play stroking along the damp skin. 

Thorin is a writhing mess, and he can feel his thigh tensing beneath his left hand. “S-stop,” he stutters breathlessly and one of his hands fist in Bilbo’s curls. “Don’t, don’t waste it.” Bilbo pulls back thankful for the reprieve as his jaw was beginning to ache though he eyed the dwarf fearfully believing he hadn’t been very good. “Don’t look at me like that, it was amazing but you can’t get pregnant that way.” Bilbo feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment due to the misunderstanding and he gets up off his knees ignoring the pop of his weary bones as he makes his way to the right-side table. He collects the lubrication from the draw and quickly and discreetly works himself open, before returning to Thorin and climbing onto his lap. “I won’t last long,” Thorin admits, abashedly, ducking his head. Bilbo tilts his chin up and looks him in the eye before capturing his lips as Thorin’s cock penetrates his body and he sinks down on the dwarf’s member moaning into his mouth. He grinds on his lap and at the first rise of his hips, Thorin is undone and spilling inside him. 

“I appreciate that you did not lie,” Bilbo commented. Thorin looked up at him, gaze indiscernible as he stared at him through dark tresses plastered to his forehead. 

“Give me a moment, Hobbit and I’ll soon have you on your back.” Thorin retaliated against the remark about his durability. “Need to work off some of this weight anyway, though you might not be able to walk in the morning.” He added with a lecherous wink. 

“Oh, about that, I was told Cenric and Oreldîr have moved on some months ago. Do you remember them?” 

“Because I’m so personable and friendly?”

“At least you know your faults,” Bilbo said with a laugh. “Well anyway since they’ve been gone there has been no new breeding stock until a week ago. A man from Rohan, he’ll be in the training yard tomorrow and you’ve been given permission to train with him or simply share the yard, whatever you may like.” 

“Can I still put you on your back?”

“Obviously.”

“Training yard it is then.” Bilbo yelped as Thorin quickly turned throwing the hobbit onto his back and covering him with his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a day early, enjoy and be honest, did you know what the tattoo was?


	18. Chapter 18

Bilbo suppressed a smirk as Thorin eagerly rifled through his clothes.

“Is it cold outside?” He asked through the bars holding up his grey fur surcoat. “Warm?” He pressed, waving his plain black surcoat in his left hand. 

“I’ve no idea how the temperature affects you. You always dress for a blizzard and yet your skin is like a furnace.” 

Thorin paused. “Are you saying I’m hot, Master Baggins?” Bilbo made a noise of disgust but couldn’t help the laughter that followed. 

“Put the black one on, we’ll be late otherwise.” Surprisingly, Thorin followed his instruction far too keen to be beyond the four walls that had driven him stir crazy. Bilbo felt ashamed that he hadn’t given a thought to Thorin’s cabin fever as he was far too involved with his own self-pity to consider the caged dwarf that had gone without so much as a window for many months.

“Ready,” Thorin called and exited the cell to stand at Bilbo’s side. 

“Look Thorin, I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Thorin’s smile faltered and his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“I’m not going out.”

“What? No, of course you are. It’s Alfrid.” Thorin shrugged, not knowing the name. “The Omega that I punched…twice.” 

“Twice?” Thorin asked with mischief dancing in his blue eyes. “I was only told the once.” 

“He was being insufferable, name calling and whatnot, he would have got more had they not pulled me off him.” Thorin said nothing in response but Bilbo could not miss the heavy drag of his gaze from his feet to his head and the slow smile that crossed his lips. Bilbo shifted uncomfortable realising that his talk of violence was stirring the dwarf and that wasn’t acceptable, even so he tried to recall scraps he had in his youth. “Well anyway,” Bilbo coughed and was convinced his cheeks had coloured. “He keeps approaching the elders claiming we are not a match.”

“Why?” 

Bilbo huffed annoyed and turned Thorin so he faced the mirror and pointed to his reflection. “That’s why. Don’t pretend you do not know how attractive you are, I would believe it had you not used your looks against me. Beyond looks you are an alpha and he is a foul jealous omega who cannot bear the thought of anyone’s happiness. So stay close to me, he could be lurking anywhere.” 

“So what does this repugnant omega look like?” 

“Well he has one eyebrow…”

“What happened to the other one?” Thorin interrupted. 

Bilbo drew his finger across his brow. “One eyebrow. Brown eyes, crooked nose, black moustache and large yellowed teeth and breath that could melt the flesh from your bones.” Thorin visibly shuddered. “He wants to kiss you with that mouth. The things he said, honestly he deserved to get his nose broken.” 

Thorin made a noise of disgust before catching the hobbit around the waist and pulling him against his chest. “Save me, Bilbo, save me,” he cried dramatically far too excitable for Bilbo’s liking. 

He struggled out of Thorin’s loose grip. “Let go of me, Thorin Bagginshield.” He managed to free himself and turned to find Thorin smirking at the name. “Besides you take offense when I treat you like a damsel.” 

“That was before,” Thorin answered with a shrug.

Bilbo sighed, taking the bait. “Before what?”

“Before I realised how sexy it was. I was a leader, I led the charge into many a battle and to have someone come to my defence was a crushing blow to my ego. I took it as an insult when it was not and I see that now. Who else can claim a child of the kindly West took up arms to defend them?” Bilbo both loved and loathed the way Thorin spoke to him using his voice in ways that was simply unfair as he approached, crowding him. “Makes me wonder what else you would face to protect me.” 

Bilbo tilts his head back to look Thorin in the eye. “Anything.” 

“An orc?” Bilbo nodded. “A cave troll?” Bilbo nodded again. “A balrog?” 

“I wouldn’t like my chances but my love for you drives me insane that I would not think twice.” He felt rooted to the spot, trapped within Thorin’s gaze as the dwarf leaned down and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. “Enough,” Bilbo whispered against his lips, torn by his decision. “We are late.” He added. 

Thorin moved away, slowly. “Lead the way,” he said while offering his hand. 

Bilbo took it and they left the room and walked down the staircase. There were a few people loitering in the parlour minding their own business but their presence unnerved Bilbo as he found himself pressed close to Thorin’s side filled with nervous energy. Thorin patted the back of his hand that he was clutching clearly aware of Bilbo’s anxiety and was trying to comfort him. Bilbo appreciated the effort but still he hurried through the parlour turning left and exited the building. 

The training yard was on the sloped path just right to the main gate and a hunter stood before the oak door leading into the armoury that had naught but wooden swords and shields. Both he and Thorin approached and it was nigh on impossible to miss the stiffening of the hunter’s posture as his eyes swept from Thorin to himself and then back to Thorin nervously. 

“Can we pass please?” Bilbo asked politely while the hunter waved two of his companions over. 

“He may, you may not.” Bilbo’s eyes narrowed at the rebuff before he remembered that the hunter was only protecting the Rohirrim alpha. He turned to Thorin and shared a quick kiss. 

“Have fun, I’ll come get you later.” After another kiss, the hunter held the door open and Thorin disappeared inside before the door was closed and this time locked as the hunter’s companions joined him in standing sentry at the door. 

Bilbo stepped away suddenly lost. The past month every waking second had been spent with Thorin and now he was not there it felt as though he was missing a limb. He continued to walk away unsure where to go. The settlement outside of the colony was a possibility but he did not wish to venture too far should anything happen. Anywhere beyond his own room he was in danger of encountering Alfrid and though he had no desire for a confrontation he desired his own solitude less. 

He stared at the wall that cordoned off the training yard and then looked up at one of the old look-out towers that had been remade into a balcony. It was a running joke why that particular tower was rebuilt though the elders continued to tell their tales of a catapult destroying that tower and only that tower. Everyone knew the truth and the reason for the balcony was because of its close proximity to the training yard so that an Omega might observe stock and ponder if they were worth laying with. 

Bilbo entered the building again and rushed up the steps making his way towards the balcony rudely ignoring anyone in his wake. The door to the balcony was bolted which Bilbo was thankful for as he slid the bolt back and walked out. He hurried over to the battlements surprised to see only the Rohirrim man standing alone swinging a wooden sword in his right hand. His long dark blond ringlets of hair obscured most of his face so Bilbo could not see if he was a handsome man. The door to the armoury opened and Thorin stepped out clutching a wooden sword and shield, he scented the air and eyed the man as he slowly approached. Bilbo had watched the man tense at Thorin’s approach but once he too scented the air the tension evaporated and Bilbo saw Thorin tap his sword against the man’s shield in invitation for a spar. 

There was always a fear that alphas may fight but Thorin had proven his war was not with his own kind. The man nodded, accepting Thorin’s invitation and the pair walked over into the centre of the yard. The man had at least a one foot height advantage but one would not know it the way Thorin walked confidently with his head proudly raised as if he were eight foot tall. Thorin let the man come at him, using his own momentum against him as he sidled away from a vicious albeit sloppy stab to manoeuvre behind the man and jab him in the back. 

The man turned and rubbed at his back before meeting Thorin’s smile with his own and going for the dwarf again. His offense was tactless while his defence was none existent as he all but forgot about his shield. Thorin was his polar opposite, a skilled warrior, he moved as gracefully as any dancer evading each blow and delivering one of his own proving he was as deadly as he was beautiful. It was an honour to watch such perfection at work but it was marred by the play sword.

He remembered the empty scabbard at the dwarf’s hip when they had first met and he had wondered what sword he had had. Weaponry was not Bilbo’s forte, he’d never used a sword and he highly doubted a conker could be considered a weapon though Drogo might say otherwise. He imagined a dwarvish blade would be heavy, bulky and geometric and though he knew the steel would be of the best quality he could not quite picture Thorin with such a weapon. Instead he could picture a long elvish sword, sleek and sharp with a curved blade and perhaps a dragon fang pommel. It would have to be a famous blade too, he could not picture Thorin with anything but the best. A blade with a bloody and victorious past, one he could boast about and honour. 

“Oh sorry,” a meek voice sounded behind him and Bilbo startled and turned finding a young retreating omega by the door. 

“Sorry, miles away, you’re welcome to join me.” The young boy nodded and closed the door and timidly made his way over to the battlements to stand beside Bilbo. Hesitantly he looked over into the yard and Bilbo could no longer hold back his smile. The boy was no more than sixteen and had clearly just presented as omega judging by his enthusiasm to observe stock. Bilbo could not fault him; the lives of men were fleeting and he still had the gift of youth and optimism that was unjaded by time. 

Bilbo turned his attention back to the two sparring and noticed Thorin was wasting moves exerting more energy than necessary. Before, he was simply a stone-cold killer but now he span and dodged and delivered blows below the knee confusing his partner with a flurry of movements. Bilbo was reminded of a cat toying with a mouse, there was no question that the cat would win but still it chose to torment its prey just like Thorin was doing. 

“Wow,” the boy gasped and turned to look at Bilbo in joy. “You’re so lucky.”

“What do you mean?”

The boy’s smile faltered. “That’s your alpha, isn’t it?” He asked casting another look over the edge. “If he isn’t he is certainly trying to be, showing off for you.” Bilbo looked over into the yard and sure enough that was exactly what Thorin was doing, not playing cat and mouse, he was just showing off. He must have seen him on the balcony whilst he was distracted. His theory was proven correct when Thorin paused to look up at the balcony and smiled winningly while Bilbo shook his head. 

“Come on, Rohan!” Bilbo cheered and watched the man startle while Thorin gazed at him looking betrayed before being struck on the shoulder. 

“Yeah Rohan!” The boy shouted next to him. Bilbo could see the man was bolstered by their cheers as he attacked Thorin with some semblance of control and he finally remembered his shield. He was still outmatched regardless of their encouragement but Thorin was less boastful in his assault focusing his attack with deadly precision rather than fancy footwork. Each stab of his sword that proved true Thorin would glance up for acceptance which made Bilbo cheer all the more for the man. 

Their calls were distracting the hunters on the battlements who were trying in vain to see the action in the yard but no one else joined them on the balcony. The spar continued until the man visibly began to weaken driven to the point of exhaustion while Thorin carried on unaware. 

Bilbo knew what Thorin was striving for and the dwarf had become so singularly obsessed he could not see that he was driving the man into the dirt. “Come on, Erebor!” He had considered using Thorin’s name but it seemed impolite to the man that had fought so valiantly against his alpha. Once his call reached the dwarf, Thorin relented and stepped away from the fallen man and bowed. Bilbo applauded and realising he was the only one he turned to the boy who was no longer there. 

Bilbo turned back to find Thorin helping the other alpha up and apologising. The man looked okay but Thorin held his arm as he led him back to the armoury and he turned to look at Bilbo, jerking his head towards the door meaning for him to collect him. 

Bilbo ran to the yard as fast as he could and half expected to find the boy outside the gate making his plea to have the man brought to his room. To his surprise the boy was not there and the man was being led away by a thick coarse rope tied around his wrists. Bilbo looked away, ashamed as the man was taken to the breeding stock pens as if he were no more than a beast.

He turned back to the door to find two hunters barring it ignoring the knocks as one of them held rope in a shaky grip. “That won’t be necessary,” Bilbo addressed the hunter with the rope. “Can you not hear the man knocking? Let him out.” The other hunter eyed him with his thick arms crossed over his chest attempting to be intimidating and none cooperative. “I said let him out,” he insisted feeling his anger boil and he heard Thorin call his name through the door. The hunter did not seem to care that he was an omega and frowned upon him for being a hobbit. “We seem to have a problem and I really hope that isn’t true. Now please, open the door.” Thorin’s knocks became louder as the dwarf grew agitated in his confinement which would only spell trouble when he was finally released. The hunter with the rope was practically quaking with terror clearly having heard a tale or two about the alpha behind the door. It was the bald-headed hunter that was proving to be the problem but Bilbo stood his ground knowing if they waited any longer Thorin would simply knock the door down and the problem would be solved. 

Finally, the oaf relented and he dropped his arms and opened the door. Thorin looked none too pleased, blue eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he stepped out slowly glaring at the hunter. “Come on, Thorin, it’s too easy and he’s not worth it.” Bilbo stated grabbing the dwarf’s arm and leading him away. In truth, he was not sure of the penalty if Thorin was to strike the hunter but with all the problems Alfrid was causing it would not do either of them well. 

“Well you worked up a sweat,” Bilbo stated changing the subject as they entered the building. “You must have worked up quite the appetite.”

“Not for food,” Thorin whispered huskily into his ear, breath hot against his skin before he slapped him on the backside. Bilbo yelped and ran towards the stairs not even making it to the first one when he was caught around the waist and pulled against Thorin’s chest. He laughed until he was breathless and almost missed the fact that Thorin had become frozen behind him. 

Fearing Alfrid was close-by Bilbo looked to the stairs and found Bard walking down the stairs with his son, Bain. Bilbo tilted his head back and saw that Thorin’s face was ashen as he stared at Bard. The brunet had not noticed them but when he finally did he gave Bilbo a gorgeous smile that reached his eyes and then froze, hands clamping on his son’s shoulders as he saw Thorin. Bain was jerked back by his father’s grip and looked towards the hobbit and dwarf unmoved. Bilbo’s jaw dropped as he noticed Bain’s alabaster skin and wide nose unlike his father’s and he was suddenly reminded of Bard’s fantastical story, of an elf and a dwarf working together and sharing him between them. 

It was only a second but it felt like an eternity as Bain and Bard passed them and Thorin came to life once more pushing him towards the stairs. He finally went, with some assistance though he wished he had not seen Thorin glance back at Bard and worse still, Bard glancing right back. He swallowed thickly and blinked back tears as he made his way up the stairs. 

Bain was Thorin’s son. 

Bard had given Thorin what he could not. He had been selfishly hoping that his fertility issues lied with Thorin but now he knew that it was not so and the issue was with him. It made him want to cry all the more but he held himself together and made it to their room. 

Thorin walked directly to his cell and began taking off his leather surcoat and Bilbo was reminded of when he had taken the dwarf’s clothes and dressed him in Bard’s. Thorin had looked horrified and Bilbo had thought it was because he had caught the scent of the omega not that he knew the omega.

“Were you in Farmer Maggot’s field with an elf?” Thorin’s shoulders tense at the question. Usually his questioning irked him but then he realised he had been so far from the truth. “An alpha elf with blond hair?” He pressed remembering Bard’s story. 

Thorin’s head lowers and then turns to the side to reveal narrowed eyes and a scowl. “What of it?” 

“No,” Bilbo whimpers and staggers back as though a physical blow has been struck. “Not you, and not with him! He was my friend!” 

“I don’t know Bard.” Thorin snapped and Bilbo choked on his tears.

“I never said his name.” Bilbo replied miserably and collapsed on the floor as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. 

“You’ve no right to do this, Bilbo. You have no claim over me!” Thorin raged with tears in his own eyes. He threw his surcoat onto the bed and stomped out of his cell and began to pace the length of the bars. “Don’t hold me accountable for things I did when I was free, you caged me, Bilbo, you!” He wiped angrily at a tear and continued to pace. “You have no right to be jealous and make me feel like shit. I’ll be free again soon, you remember that!” 

Bilbo managed to pull himself up, leaning heavily against the wall. “Our deal still stands, yes?” Thorin asked desperately. “Yes?” Bilbo could only cry in response feeling as though his heart had been torn from his chest. “Don’t go back on your word.”

“I…I can’t do this,” Bilbo staggered towards the door. 

“Don’t break your oath.” 

“You broke it long before I did. I can’t stand to look at you.” Bilbo slipped out of the door to Thorin’s chorus of ‘oathbreaker’ ringing in his ears.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I knew my last chapter would get a reaction but I wasn't expecting it to get that much of a reaction, so thank you. You have no idea how much I wanted to add to the conversation but I couldn't for fear of giving something away.

Bilbo sat on his bed with his head down while pushing the emerald around on the palm of his hand. Gimli had given it to him as a trade for what it symbolised and he had stored it under his pillow since it was given though it had proved all but useless. 

Bilbo bit back a yawn and fought to keep his heavy eyes open. He had slept fitfully during the hours he could find peace and he knew Thorin had an equally troubled night, tossing and turning in the cell. They hadn’t spoken when Bilbo had returned, though Thorin had tried Bilbo had held up a hand and shook his head knowing he could not be civil. His heart ached like a dead weight in his chest but though he was hurting he knew he had overreacted. Thorin had a life before him and it was one he enjoyed and it was taken from him. He may have been speaking in anger but his incarceration was because of Bilbo, because of a bond he did not want and could not accept. 

But he had thought-allowed himself to believe-deluded himself- that Thorin returned his feelings. Because he needed to be loved. Because he was selfish. Because he was desperate. 

The emerald drops to the carpet and Thorin hesitantly approaches from where he had been hovering in his peripheral vision. He bends down slow as if his actions could spook Bilbo and he picks up the stone and slowly rises, eyes never leaving Bilbo’s face. He looks terrified and someone so strong brought that low is sickening especially when he is afraid of Bilbo of all people. 

“A Stone of Hope,” Thorin speaks holding the gem to the light. He looks sad as he passes it back dropping it into Bilbo’s hand unsure if he had lost the privilege of touch. He hesitates, standing on the cusp of Bilbo’s personal space while shifting uncomfortably. “Bilbo?” He asked timidly and Bilbo raises his head revealing his red raw eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I need to know, does our deal still stand?” 

Bilbo hesitates with the answer. He was always going to lose Thorin, he couldn’t contain that hurricane forever, he wasn’t strong enough and it was too devastating. “Yes,” his voice is hoarse as his throat felt raw from his screams of denial. 

Thorin nods and leans down pressing his lips against Bilbo’s. It is chaste, curious, testing the bounds of their now fractured relationship. Bilbo lays back on the bed, legs dangling off the end while the emerald is clutched tightly in his right hand. Thorin climbs over him, knees either side of his waist and one hand placed above his right shoulder, as he uses his other hand to drag his hair over to one side before leaning down and pressing their lips together once more. The second kiss is more assertive as Thorin traces Bilbo’s lips with his tongue seeking entrance to the warm cavern of his mouth. 

When permission is granted, Thorin sits up and pulls off his white undershirt tossing it carelessly over his shoulder before capturing Bilbo’s lips in a kiss once more. Thorin’s left hand strokes up Bilbo’s forearm before he encourages the hobbit to open his hand and he too presses his palm against the emerald before linking their fingers together. Bilbo moans into his mouth while his legs part involuntary beneath the dwarf. 

Thorin gently nips his lower lip before placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth and then peppering kisses along his jaw and down his chin. Bilbo is breathing heavily by the time Thorin is kissing down his throat, the scratch of his beard against the delicate skin a pleasure in itself. His mind cruelly wonders if he had done this to Bard, or his elf. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head trying to rid himself of such thoughts. It is no use, when he opens his eyes he can practically see Bard behind Thorin’s back, like a demon he must bear. 

“Stop!” He pushes at Thorin’s shoulder and the dwarf releases his hand and pulls away confused. He shoves the dwarf off him and practically jumps off the bed putting space between himself, Thorin and that imagined incubus on his back. His lips tremble as tears flood his eyes once more and he stares at the emerald in his hand before throwing it. “Useless piece of tat.” He spits, resentfully and then storms out of the room. 

He had received mail some days ago and he pressed his hand to his pocket happy to hear the creasing of paper as he walked away from his room and up the stairs towards the balcony. He needed fresh air and solitude, and he was pleased to find once more that the balcony door was bolted meaning both were within his grasp. He slid the bolt back and opened the door and stepped through before shutting the door and sitting down so his back was against it. 

He fished out the note from his pocket eyeing the hard lines in his written name wondering who it could be from. He turned it over and found no seal so he pulled the paper from the envelope and began to read.

_‘My Dearest Bilbo,_

_I apologise for my late correspondence but as you may have gathered by the use of that word, I needed help. I may have forgotten to mention that I could speak Westron but I could not write it. So, allow me to introduce my scribe, Ori. Hello._

_How are things in Weathertop? Awful now I’m gone, surely? Remember to keep smiling, Bilbo as we both have a lot to smile about. Yes we. I can hardly believe it but I too have found my One. His name is Nori and is my scribe’s older brother but not the eldest. That would be Dori and he’s a right pain in the backside but his heart’s in the right place._

_Do you believe in fate? I mean it’s awful to say but I think my cousin was meant to have that accident so my Ma would be forced to send for me. He’s okay, I should mention, considering he has an axe embedded in his skull and can only speak in Khuzdul and wildly gesticulate. Not much difference from when he’s a few cups in, perhaps a bit feistier but it’s all good._

_So, I want to tell you about Nori but his brother is writing this and I don’t want to write a sappy love letter. We are bonded, I can reveal that much, has your alpha bitten you yet? He was just getting a taste for you before I left. Write me back when you leave for the Shire, dinner at four and full pantry right? I miss you._

_Bofur_

_P.S. How are those riding lessons coming along?_

“Bofur,” Bilbo whispered and laughed through his tears. He placed the letter back into the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. He was pleased for Bofur, he truly was, he deserved all the happiness in the world. The thought of his children though, he shuddered to think, undoubtedly menaces all doe-eyed and butter wouldn’t melt. 

Bofur was the second dwarf who had asked him if he believed in fate, as Thorin was obviously the first. Thorin believed fate had brought them together, he had admitted they were a match and he knew how taxing it was on the dwarf to admit that. They belonged together and it was folly to blame Thorin for the sins of the past. What if he had chosen to procreate before finding his One as so many omegas had? It would destroy him if Thorin had written him off so easily. He was told once that if something wasn’t worth fighting for then it wasn’t worth having and Thorin was certainly worth fighting for. 

Climbing to his feet, Bilbo was resolute in his quest and he opened the door and walked down the stairs. An explanation was needed, certain sins of omission were perfectly fine but he should have warned him about Bard. There was, of course, also the issue of Thorin failing to bond with him and he needed to know if it was because of Bard or was there more between him and the elf? Two alphas together were not unheard of and though Bard joined them from time to time they had been together for at least fourteen years. It was said a rut was a high, Bard could have been for recreational use and the true contender for Thorin’s heart was the elf. 

Walking towards his room, Bilbo paused as the door was ajar and he could hear the murmur of voices behind it. He crept closer and tried to listen but they were speaking far too quietly so he glanced through the small parting in the door by the hinges and his heart lurched painfully in his chest. Thorin was sat on Bilbo’s bed holding Bard’s three-month-old daughter in his arms while Bard was pressed up against him cooing at his child over his shoulder.

Bilbo swayed unsteady on his feet feeling lightheaded before anger coursed through his veins and he pushed the door wide open startling the couple on the bed. “Get out,” he hissed venomously, eyes narrowed on Bard. 

“Bil…”

“Shut up!” Bilbo snapped not even sure which one had spoken. “Take that,” he pointed at the baby clutched in Thorin’s arms and choked back a sob as he saw dark wisps of hair and big blue eyes. “And get out of my room.” Bard took the baby from Thorin looking contrite as he stood from the bed. “Get out!” Bilbo screamed and the baby wailed in response as Bard rushed from the room. “As for you!” Bilbo snapped, rounding on Thorin. “Dress warm, we’re going on a picnic.” 

He didn’t listen to Thorin’s reply, he only slammed the door as he made his way towards the mess hall. He collected a picnic basket from the back and threw in whatever food was on the shelf since the picnic was a ruse and the basket was no more than a prop. 

When he returned to his room, Thorin was dressed in as many undershirts and robes as he could without looking suspect. His gaze faltered under Bilbo’s scrutiny and he scuffed his boot against the carpet like a naughty tween given a time out.

“You don’t have to do this, Bilbo.” 

“I thought you’d be glad,” Bilbo returned, vindictively. 

“We made a deal, I mean to honour it.” 

Bilbo nodded, sadly. “You tried, so now I am releasing you from that obligation. The deal remains, you have earned your freedom.” He stated while holding out his hand magnanimously. 

“I have not!” Thorin snapped, slapping his hand away. “Just listen, please…”

“I’m tired, Thorin, I’m so bloody tired. I thought I had the energy for you but I don’t. I would have fought for you but I can’t when it is unwinnable. Go be with your elf.”

“If you would just let me explain…”

“Let me explain, because you aren’t understanding me. You aren’t worth fighting for.” The change in Thorin was instantaneous as his eyes darkened. He had once likened them to cornflower but he was mistaken as they were more similar to forget-me-nots. His lips were together, jaw set and arms that were moments ago gesturing wildly were still at his sides. Something had died between them, it had been stabbed the day before and held on valiantly but it had finally bled out and now laid stone cold dead at their feet. 

Acting mechanically, Thorin collected his empty scabbard. Like his belt, the scabbard was once encrusted with jewels but they had been picked off and most likely sold until there was nothing left. He tied it around his waist regardless, obsessed with his meagre possessions. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the green shine of the emerald he had thrown carelessly. He walks over to retrieve it and then returns to take hold of Thorin’s hand to place the emerald in his palm. 

“For your time,” he says closing Thorin’s hand around the gem. The words taste foul on his tongue and the look of grief on Thorin’s beautiful pale face is enough for him to wish the earth would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. “May you have more luck with it than I.” Bilbo leaves the room then, knowing that Thorin would follow. 

When he had first offered his deal to Thorin he’d pictured the scenario of them leaving the compound hand in hand while he laughed at a joke that Thorin never told. Thorin had been holding the picnic basket, his cheeks had been rosy due to pregnancy, the sky had been a pale blue and the birds were singing their merry songs. His thoughts had always been rather whimsical born from the mind of a dreamer and the only problem with living a dream is the awful knowledge that all dreams come to an end. 

He hurried out of the building with Thorin close behind him that it could almost look as if they were walking together which they were not. A distance had grown between them, spanning many leagues becoming cold and echoing the hollow silence in the void. They walked out of the gate with no questions asked and headed north towards the hills. 

The entire journey was done in silence, hardly an adventure he had dreamed of in his youth but then this wasn’t a journey it was only a journey’s end. He set the basket down at the trunk of an old tree standing solitary. There had once been many trees but they had been uprooted by marauding trolls used for fire and battering rams. It seemed the perfect place to part as lovers since they were never friends. 

“You don’t have long before the evening hunt begins, I’ve taken you as far as I can, now go.” 

Thorin hesitated, eyeing the hills and the hobbit. Some life had returned to him as Bilbo could see the dying embers in his eyes. “My ghivashel,” he opened his arms but Bilbo shook his head.

“No, don’t do this.” He had no idea what the word meant and he no longer wished to know it. Thorin grabbed him regardless, forcing him into his warm embrace and he simply wanted to melt and forget but he could not. “Leave,” he hissed while struggling from an embrace he wished would never end. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve done it again, please don’t lose faith in me.” Thorin sounded so broken and desperate but Bilbo was adamant that his resolve would not weaken.

“Leave now because if you don’t our deal is off and I will scream and you will never see the light of day again.” 

Thorin’s arms dropped from around him and he staggered back. “Amrâlimê,” he choked. 

“Go, be with your elf.”

“Bilbo?” Thorin implored desperately but Bilbo only filled his lungs in preparation for a scream. “Fuck!” Thorin exclaimed, gaze shifting from the hills to Bilbo. His lips were parted as if to expel more useless pleas but then the embers in his eyes from his bonfire heart were extinguished and he shook his head and took off running towards the hills. 

Bilbo turned around and fell to his knees unable to watch the love of his life run from him. He allowed himself his grief, curling on the ground and clutching his arms trying to recreate the warmth of a hug he would never feel again. He laid that way until his breath was shallow and his tears were spent and the light faded from the sky.


	20. Chapter 20

“He missed his appointment.”

“The hunter says their meals haven’t been touched for a week.”

“They have been spending a lot of time together maybe they simply forgot?”

“Bilbo would never miss an appointment, and from what I’m hearing they aren’t exactly quiet in their activities and no one has heard a peep out of them for many weeks. Something is off, I tell you now open this door.” 

“But what if we are interrupting something?”

“Gimli, I am a physician, I have seen enough naked bodies to last me a lifetime now get this door open. Stop hesitating, boy, I’ll send word to your father, don’t think I won’t.” 

Bilbo wiped the tears from his eyes as he laid in the bed in the cell wrapped in Thorin’s sheets and dressed in Thorin’s grey fur surcoat. The three distinctive voices had caused him to stir from his restless slumber and since he hadn’t the energy to answer their calls he listened as they argued amongst themselves. 

Gimli was one of them, though that took little guess work due to the use of his name. The owner of the gruff voice that had used it could be none other than Oin though the third was mystery. His voice was higher and softer as he spoke about their meals and given the company he was in, Bilbo would guess that the third voice belonged to Legolas. 

“My dearest brother, I regret to inform you about your disobedient wayward…” The door burst open and Bilbo could barely lift his head in acknowledgement as Gimli, Oin and Legolas stormed his room.

“Good grief!” Gimli exclaimed, when his eyes spied the pitiful creature laid in the bed. “Bilbo, did Thorin do this to you?” Bilbo eyed the dwarf in confusion until he realised he had pulled the door shut.

“Thorin?” Oin practically shouted, pressing the trumpet closer to his ear. “Did you just say…”

Gimli turned, waving his hand. “Not now uncle,” Gimli insisted before turning back to the hobbit. 

“Well he can’t have got far,” Legolas voiced his opinion after scouting the room. “I’ll inform the hunters…”

“No!” Bilbo shouted and sat bolt upright in the bed. “You leave him alone…just please…just leave him alone.” He begged miserably as he watched Gimli open the unlocked door expecting otherwise. 

“It’s alright laddie, just calm down. We’ll find him and I’ll personally give him a right good talking to, honestly running away like that. There has never been an escape in Weathertop.” Oin added flummoxed. 

“Thorin didn’t escape,” Gimli mumbled swinging the cell door back and forth in fascination. “You released him.” He addressed Bilbo with a knowing look in his eye. 

“But why?” Legolas enquired with a tilt of his head and Bilbo felt the weight of three inquisitive gazes. He parted his lips to utter lies but he could not find the words or the strength to be dishonest. 

“Oh, thank the Valar!” A fourth voice sighed in relief and Bilbo’s blood boiled. “I was worried sick!”

“What is he doing in here?” Bilbo demanded, kicking the covers off himself. “Get out!” 

“Bilbo please,” Bard pleaded, hands clasped as if in prayer. 

“I’m warning you, get out before I make you get out.” Bilbo warned climbing off the bed and walking towards the bars. He was aware that they had a stunned and confused audience but in his anger, he did not care. 

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“I won’t be sorry when I hurt you, now get out you four by two Teddy Twofoot!” Bilbo shouted. 

“No!” Bard replied, folding his arms in front of his chest and raising his chin defiantly. “I won’t.” 

“You whore!” Bilbo screamed and pushed Gimli out of the way to take a run at Bard. He misjudged the elf’s reflexes as Legolas captured him in his arms preventing his attack. 

“Now Bilbo, that was too far,” Gimli grumbled.

“No Gimli, it’s not far enough. He slept with Thorin! He had Thorin’s son!” The room was suddenly filled with an awkward suspenseful silence and even the elf’s hold loosened around him as his eyes widened as he turned to look expectantly at Bard, as Gimli and Oin had done. 

“I…I can explain,” Bard stuttered, hands held out in front of him in surrender. Tears pooled in the corners of his misty hazel eyes as his lips trembled. 

“Best you get out of here laddie.” Oin advised and Bard nodded, dejectedly. 

“And stay off your back, slut!” Bilbo added, still restrained in Legolas’ arms. Oin turned and gave him a look of disapproval as Bard ran dramatically from his room trying desperately to garner sympathy by using his boyish good looks, the same ones that had earned him Thorin’s knot. 

“If I release you, will you stay?” Legolas asked, unsure and his fear was not unwarranted. The green-eyed monster that lurked beneath his skin wanted revenge through Bard’s blood and he could think of no alternative to quell the vicious beast. 

“Bilbo, this isn’t you,” Gimli stated sadly, eyeing him from head to toe. “I’m not saying Bard didn’t deserve that tongue lashing, that’s not my business, but you’re my friend and it hurts to see you like this. Don’t stop being you, don’t let that bastard win.” Bilbo practically wilted in Legolas’ arms and he succumbed to tears once more as he shouldered the weight of his despair once again. 

“You look dreadful,” Oin observed as Legolas helped him over to his bed. “Terrible pallor to your skin, nevermind the bags beneath your eyes and a hollowness to your cheeks. Have you been eating?” Oin asked as he approached and knelt before him looking him over and checking his pulse. 

“Food makes me sick,” Bilbo mumbled rubbing his upset stomach at even the mention of food. 

“I see, how long have you had these symptoms?” 

“Roughly a week.”

“So, you haven’t eaten since then?” Oin asked and Bilbo shook his head. “And when did you last mate with your alpha?” Bilbo blushed at the question but then froze in horror as he realised what Oin was suggesting. 

He placed a protective hand over his stomach. “Please, I did not know.” He implored but Oin looked menacing. “Truly, I would never harm my baby. Please believe me!” He begged desperately knowing what became of omegas that deliberately miscarry. He had only heard of one case in his fifty years and the omega had been stripped of all their rights and thrown into omega stock pens, no longer a person but a broodmare. Of course, there had been no such thing as omega stock pens and there still weren’t. The omega was tossed in with the alphas driving the stock insane with their scent. 

“Seven weeks ago, I came back to my room with another negative result and Thorin comforted me and I wasn’t thinking. For the first time, I was free of any thoughts of pregnancy. Thorin had told me that he loved me, well, I thought that was what he was trying to say. The next day everything crumbled and I honestly forgot the day before. When my heat never came, I thought it was because I was depressed. I would never hurt my baby, it’s all I’ve ever wanted, it’s the only piece of Thorin I’d get to keep. Please believe me, don’t take my baby from me, I won’t have a reason to live if you do.” Oin sat back on his haunches and huffed.

“I’d never question your desire to have a child and I honestly do believe you made a mistake and did not know you were pregnant. Morning sickness usually starts six weeks in and having an empty stomach exacerbates the problem, it does not cure it. You need to eat, little and often, high protein food is best especially those rich in vitamin B such as nuts and dry fruit. I want you drinking water, at least eight glasses a day, Legolas.” Oin called and suddenly Legolas was beside him passing him a tall glass of water as though he had anticipated Oin’s direction. “Very good, drink that, all of it at your own pace, mind and I shall be back shortly with a salad I will prepare myself.” Oin then climbed to his feet with far too much fuss and walked towards the door. “Boys, look after Bilbo. Oh, and even I could not help but hear the name Thorin thrown about flagrantly. The fact that you kept that from me, Gimli, is very disappointing, and I’d wager you’ve not told Bilbo. He’s carrying his heir, he has a right to know.” Oin then left the room leaving Bilbo confused while Gimli and Legolas shared nervous looks. 

“I’ve a right to know what?” Bilbo questioned. “Is this what you and Thorin were talking about, when you said ‘tell him, he has a right to know?’” Bilbo questioned Legolas and the elf shook his head. 

“No, you were not the ‘he’ I was referring to. I meant my ada, it will all make sense very soon.” The elf then laid a comforting hand on the dwarf’s shoulder and Gimli cleared his throat. 

“I did not lie to you, Bilbo, your alpha’s name was Thorin but when I knew him he was Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór.” Gimli paused swallowing nervously while Bilbo’s eyes narrowed in concentration having heard the name Thrór before. “King Under the Mountain.” Gimli exhaled while Bilbo’s jaw dropped. 

“King? King Under the Mountain? _The_ Mountain? The _Lonely_ Mountain? _Erebor?_ ” Bilbo asked, as his voice grew in pitch. “The greatest and wealthiest kingdom in Middle Earth, that Erebor?” Gimli nodded. “Please do not tell me I called the heir of Durin a whore.” He wailed and covered his face with his hands. “Why was I so blind? He said my mountain to my face and I laughed at him. Wait…Fíli stole his throne? He was usurped by his nephew?” 

“How did you come by that knowledge if Thorin’s identity was unknown to you?” Legolas asked since Gimli was rendered speechless. 

“He kept telling me that an omega stole his home and much later he revealed the secret of his tattoo. Was I truly too blind to see? Why did he not tell me?” Bilbo dropped his head into his hands once more wondering if that knowledge would have had any effect on their relationship.

“But he did tell you,” Gimli finally spoke up and Bilbo lifted his head. Gimli was stood by the far wall eyeing the now framed drawing of Erebor. He had tried to find his poetry, not to mount but to simply reread and remember a better time but he had misplaced it. Gimli pointed to the letters on the right side of the map. 

“That? That’s the key to the map.” 

“No, it’s the key to Thorin’s identity. ‘ _The King beneath the mountains, The King of carven stone. The lord of silver fountains, shall come into his own. His crown shall be upholden, his harp shall be restrung, his halls shall echo golden, to songs of yore re-sung_.’ Signed by Thorin Second True King Under the Mountain.” Bilbo shook his head, all this time and Thorin still desired the throne beyond all reason. 

“Why did Fíli usurp him? He was named heir apparent, why could he not simply wait?” Bilbo asked perplexed. 

“Thorin became ill,” Gimli began unwilling to speak ill of his usurped king.

“The gold sickness, he told me. He confessed he was a prick but he didn’t think he was that much of prick to warrant such punishment.” 

“He was not himself, he was withdrawn, cold and suspicious of those around him.”

“Sounds like himself to me.” Bilbo’s jest was in poor taste and he loathed that part of himself that made such a distasteful joke. 

“He was a good king, Bilbo, I daresay great. His people wanted for nothing and he would never ask someone to do something he would not do himself. He led by example and during his reign Dale prospered and Lake-Town and so on, the rivers ran gold Bilbo, they really did. Even during his sickness he ran his kingdom although he did have brief argument with Elrond the Lord of Rivendell and called him, well think of all the curse words you know, add ten more and then you have a rough idea.” 

“I thought he liked elves.”

“Elrond had a vendetta against the Elvenking Thranduil, an alpha…”

“My father,” Legolas added, proudly. 

“You’re a prince?” Bilbo asked aghast. Sure, he had heard Gimli refer to him as such but he had assumed it was a term of endearment not a valid title. Legolas only smiled in reply. 

“Elrond, an omega I might add, believed that no alpha should be King. He spent years trying to dethrone Thranduil but he hid away in his woodland realm. So, Elrond tried to entreat with Thorin to cut off supplies to the Greenwood by threatening trading agreements with Lake-Town. As an alpha king himself, Thorin told him where to go.”

“I still do not know why Fíli acted against him.” 

“During his sickness Kíli came of age and presented as Alpha and his One was his own brother, Fíli. Soul bonds have been known to be incestuous and are acceptable and the line of kings in any race have always had a shallow gene pool. However, it was well known that Thorin was against such unions since his brother was born and practically thrown at him. He loved his brother, as his brother loved him but he grew angry disliking how people were trying to manipulate his love to suit their own agendas.” 

“Thorin had a brother? He did not say.” Bilbo shrugs, wondering if he ever knew Thorin at all. 

There is sadness etched on Gimli’s face that was not there a moment ago. “Yes, a younger brother, Prince Frerin.” Bilbo wishes to know what had happened but he did not wish to push. “Thorin was a curious, adventurous child, fearless, brave and terribly naïve. Of course, he was exhibiting alpha traits but no one realised at the time mistaking it for a thirst for life. When he was old enough, Frerin became his shadow, he looked to Thorin as a leader and he would have followed him anywhere. One afternoon they ventured to the north side of the mountain and came across a cave. Thorin thought it was a secret entrance and dashed inside without thinking only to come out screaming being chased by a cave troll. The troll swung a tree trunk like a bat as it was blinded by the light blue sky but there was no sun to turn it to stone and since it could not see it swung wildly while Thorin climbed the rocks and leapt onto the creature’s back, sticking his sword through its neck. He celebrated his victory, for it was that, his greatest accomplishment and yet also his greatest folly. While the troll swung the trunk, Frerin had not moved in fear for his brother and he was struck fatally in the chest. He died there, in Thorin’s arms. His rib had punctured his lung and he choked to death on his own blood, it was not a good death.” Gimli finishes sadly, with his head lowered in sorrow.

Bilbo wiped at tears he hadn’t known he had shed. The more he heard about Thorin the more things made sense. When the alpha had left his room in search of food and eyed the exit he had assumed that Thorin had understood that escape was impossible. He hadn’t realised that the alpha had forgone his desperately sought freedom to ensure Bilbo’s safety knowing that the hobbit would follow him. 

“Frerin’s death changed him, he blamed his alpha side for getting his brother killed and he buried it deep within himself. The explorations stopped and he lost himself in his studies and when he was not lost in his books he was in the training yard. He became a great warrior, a lethal killer and a leader of men. No one knew he was an alpha, I was as surprised as everyone else when the news came out.” 

“So, his nephews were a match and he would stand against it. Why could they not simply wait?” 

“Come now Bilbo, a newly presented alpha and a fertile omega? Did you and Thorin wait? I’d wager the first sign of heat you jumped on him.” Bilbo wanted to correct him but he understood what Gimli was suggesting. “It was inevitable that Fíli would become pregnant and Thorin may be against it but he would only shout and glare but Thorin was very sick, becoming unhinged finding monsters in the shadows. He threw his most trusted advisor into a cell because he claimed he had looked at the Arkenstone and then he threw the advisor’s brother in jail for being his brother disregarding the fact that Dwalin was both his best friend and captain of his guard. The saddest part of this whole sorry saga is that he randomly came back to himself but by then it was too late, everything was set in motion and the rumours spread like wildfire.” 

“Fíli could have stood down,” Bilbo added testily. 

“The people were for him and would not follow Thorin. Fíli felt awful for usurping him that he made a deal with Dain Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills. He promised him Thorin and suggested they could force bond so Thorin could at least be a lord.” 

“A forced bond never takes,” Bilbo replied disgusted that anyone could even entertain the thought of doing something so vile. 

“Exactly, Dain would eventually find his one and Thorin would go to the Iron Hill colony and every omega would have their turn abusing the privilege of laying with a king and having the honour of carrying an heir of Durin. Thorin knew this and so he took the Arkenstone, the King’s jewel, whoever had it ruled over the seven kingdoms. With it he urged the armies to march and come to his aid and restore him. Only twelve answered his call.”

“Twelve families?” Bilbo enquired. 

“Twelve dwarves, alphas, fed up with their position in society they sought salvation in Thorin’s campaign. Their pitiful rebellion was quashed within minutes, these alphas were not warriors they were toymakers and bakers and Thorin refused to kill his own people. They were all arrested and thrown in the cells and later breeding stock pens except for Thorin who was under mountain arrest and locked in his room awaiting emissaries from the Iron Hills to escort him to his intended. There are rooms within rooms in the mountain, secret walkways and entryways. As an apartment for a member of the royal family his room had one such passageway in which he had confided in no-one. So he managed to escape and fled to the only person who would understand his plight, King Thranduil. From there I know no more.”

“But I do,” Legolas offered as Bilbo took a drink. “Thorin came to us quite dishevelled, he begged an audience with my father and told him of his plight. He also warned him of Elrond’s meddling and that the elf lord was looking for help elsewhere. In a show of good faith and also slightly vindictive, he gave the Arkenstone, the treasure of his house to my father to keep or to crack whatever he may desire.” 

“Because he loved him?” Bilbo asked quietly realising Thranduil must be Thorin’s elf. He was a king, Bilbo never stood a chance. 

“Thorin loves my ada?” Legolas asked with a laugh. 

“They are together!” Bilbo protested. 

“Side by side, indeed.” Legolas conceded. “Hand in hand? You are terribly mistaken. They bicker like an old bonded couple, true, but they are not. I would think Thorin would rather kill my ada than kiss him and the same for my ada. Visually they are polar opposites but spiritually they are similar.” 

“Similar enough to share Bard between them.” Bilbo snapped cantankerously, putting an end to Legolas’ mirth.

“Bard and my father? I have siblings?” Legolas asked with the dawning of hope in his blue eyes. 

“Sigrid and Tilda?” Gimli asked the hobbit. “His story about the elf and the dwarf was true?”

“It makes sense, they are all kings without a throne.” Fíli ruled Erebor, the Greenwood burnt down and when Dale fell in the Great War the royal line was lost and there was not enough evidence to seat Bard on the vacant throne when Dale was rebuilt. 

Gimli and Legolas exchanged words in the harsh sounding tongue of Khuzdul before appearing to come to an agreement and turned back to Bilbo. 

“Thorin made an alliance with my ada, desiring his fifteen thousand strong army willing to follow an alpha king. During this time, I led the scouting party in the Greenwood and reported back that we were losing ground to Elrond’s forces. Thorin proposed that they take back Erebor, its food stores were full and the mountain was easily defendable and Thorin knew of a secret passageway to which only he had the key. Once the royal family were subdued and incarcerated the mountain and the throne would be his once more without bloodshed. For his aide, Thorin offered the vacant throne of Dale to my ada and as many white gems as he could possibly want. The Greenwood was all but lost so my ada agreed but my heart was heavy and my thoughts plagued that I chose to join the Dúnedain of the North. I left the day they marched towards Erebor and I never saw my ada again.” 

Bilbo followed the story with rapt interest, leaning forward with lips parted, both startled and intrigued. “Then what happened?” He asked enthusiastically wondering why he had never heard of such a rebellion. 

“My mind was troubled so I returned home only there was no home just blackened trees and scorched earth. I hid in the dead trees on the border of my land that had survived the fire. Two Lothlórien infantry elves passed by my location, boasting of their victory.” Legolas pauses as his handsome face distorted in distaste before he regained his composure. “Thorin’s warning had been very real, Elrond had summoned Lady Galadriel for assistance. As an Elder Omega she could not allow two alphas to rule as kings so she crushed their rebellion in its infancy. She used her magic to bewitch them and as they marched they succumbed to the sleeping spell. My father had feared the use of magic since most of his was spent in the Great War but he had enough to protect himself and Thorin from the sleeping curse. They parted ways so one might escape and it was Thorin they had cornered. He was tricked, thinking he would become breeding stock he was defenceless as an elf ran him through leaving him for dead.” Bilbo paled and held up a hand before darting into the bathroom and throwing up what little water he had drank.

In his mind’s eye, he could see Thorin stood bare chested before him, hand covering the scar that haunted his dreams. ‘You would not believe me even if I told you.’ He had said. “Told you,” the memory of him says now. 

Bilbo wipes his mouth and then walks over to the sink and splashes water onto his face. His mind plays tricks on him as he can see Thorin sat on the counter out of the corner of his eye. Forget-me-not eyes seek his own as rose pink lips part as if to speak though never saying enough. He reaches for him then, if only to caress a bearded cheek to feel the tiny bristles against his palm and know he was real. His hand touches empty space as the apparition fades retreating back into his own mind.

“Ghivashel,” he whispers to the ghost of the past knowing it had meant something. 

“Bilbo?” Gimli enquired, shuffling over to the door.

“I’m fine,” he answers and leaves the bathroom and takes his seat on the bed once more. “I apologise, please continue.” 

“They could not find my ada so they torched the Greenwood burning the bodies of those that defied them. Murdering men while they slept and one lay dying and hoping to burn my ada alive. My heart was broken as I stayed within the tree for many weeks looking to the stars for comfort and yet finding none. The call of the sea was a siren to my soul and the thoughts of sailing west often crashed through my thoughts like the ocean tide upon the shore. I thought to leave when I heard a whistle.” Legolas says with a smile and turns and gifts Gimli a most beatific smile. “My One had come, redirecting my thoughts and mending my broken heart. I followed him like a love-sick elfling but that story is for another time.” Legolas places a hand over his heart and then held his hand out to Gimli while the dwarf returned the gesture and Bilbo smiled despite his sadness. “I thought ada and Thorin had perished in the fire so I was surprised when my One returned to me with the scent of a dead alpha dwarf on him.” 

“I could not tell you, Bilbo. It was not my secret to tell.” Gimli quickly adds and Bilbo nods in understanding. 

“When I came to your room, Thorin told me what had happened. Thranduil came back for him as the woods burned all around them. He used the last of his magic to save Thorin’s life and to heal his own face that was burned in the fire and then they were on their own. Thorin refused to give up his quest for the throne or his alliance with Thranduil. I believe had it not been for Thorin’s tenacity my ada would have sailed West as Elrond always wanted. Thorin confessed to me that Thranduil was waiting for him in the Shire, so I showed him my children, named after my two murdered friends in the Greenwood. I knew he would find his way back to my ada so I told him to tell Thranduil that he was a grandfather as he had a right to know. Thranduil and Thorin do love one another but not in the way you think, rest assured, Thorin’s heart is not compromised.” 

Bilbo wanted to believe him but his suspicious mind would give him no peace. Instead he dropped his head and eyed his swollen stomach, still plump from food but now a baby grew there. He rubbed a hand over the bump, apologetically, thinking he had caused his baby stress. 

Legolas and Gimli were talking amongst themselves again and Legolas took his leave with a bow and left quickly. Bilbo tried to finish his drink while Gimli shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as the silence became uncomfortable. 

“Who cut off Thorin’s beard?” Bilbo asked, setting the empty glass down, hoping to redirect his hatred. 

“Oh, Thorin did. Durin’s folk are also known as the Longbeards and Thorin had the most impressive beard, he could even tuck it into his belt.” Gimli stated with awe. “’Course then he loses his throne and there’s talks of giving him to Dain, Thorin is a hothead at the best of times so he was livid. Cut his beard off, tried to throw it at Fíli but the guards would not let him get close.” 

“If he was such a great king, why did no one come to his aid?” Gimli shrugged and took his glass and re-filled it before handing it back and taking a seat beside him. 

“I guess they just lost faith in him and didn’t think he was worth fighting for.” Gimli’s words cut Bilbo to the bone when he remembered telling Thorin that he was not worth fighting for. Thorin had looked stricken and the fight had drained from him. In a last ditch attempt he claimed he feared history was repeating itself and still Bilbo wronged him and sent him away before his selfish heart was burdened any further. 

“Birth rate among dwarves has always been abysmal and after the Great War we were the first race that would have faced extinction.” Gimli continued. “When Fíli usurped Thorin he was bonded and his belly was already rounded and the people rejoiced. They could not see past Fíli’s growing stomach and were reminded that Thorin himself had not produced an heir but had relied on his sister. The rumour mill was on fire being fed stories by none other than Kíli and in an unforgivable act he brought up Frerin. Thorin had made very few mistakes but the ones he did make were catastrophic when spun in the right way. Kíli implied that Frerin was an omega, he died before he was old enough to present but that did not stop the people believing it. He’d said that Frerin had followed Thorin, which he had and that the alpha got him killed because he was a dumb brute that thought only of himself. He put it to the people, would they trust their salvation on such a thoughtless beast or trust in an omega that would not shirk his responsibilities. It was underhanded but it was clever and it worked.” Gimli then paused and eyed the hobbit seriously. “Thorin will never get his throne back and your child will have no claim being, beg my pardon, a half-breed. The line of Durin has never flourished as well as it has under Fíli’s regime, as already he has produced four princes and two princesses and there is another on the way.” 

“I do not care for a throne or a hollow crown, not for me or for my child.” Bilbo snapped in anger. Gimli physically balked, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Now Bilbo, I admit I spoke before I thought. The Shire is your kingdom and Bag End is your throne, this I know and meant no disrespect.” 

“Bag End,” Bilbo sighed wistfully and patted his belly. “We can go home.” 

“Not until the bairn is born,” Oin announced ominously by the door carrying a large bowl. Bilbo lowered his head, saddened that he could not be trusted with the life of his own child. Oin entered the room and handed him the bowl which was an eclectic salad. “Eat it all,” Oin insisted and handed him cutlery and he ate slowly under the watchful eye of both dwarves. It was belittling but even he knew the value of a child outweighed the value of an alpha and an omega. This was his burden to bear as he had been so entwined in his own misery he had potentially harmed the greatest thing to ever happen to him. He would have his child in Weathertop, and hopefully spite Bard and Alfrid before he left. 

Oin examined the bowl when he had finished and gave a satisfied nod when he found it was empty. “Good, now gather your essentials.”

“Why?”

“A change of scenery will do you good and I mean to keep an eye on you.” 

“No!” Bilbo protested and jumped from the bed and ran over to the cell. “Don’t, please, you can’t.” Tears leaked from his eyes as he clung desperately to the bars. The last pieces of Thorin were in this room and to take them from him felt as though they were tearing the flesh from his bones. He screamed when he couldn’t articulate his plight and clutched the bars tighter refusing to relinquish what little he had left. 

“Why is he screaming like that?” Gimli asked, possibly privately but the dwarf had never been quiet. 

“A severed bond.”

“But they weren’t bonded.”

“They were in every way other than bite. With Thorin gone it must feel like his arm was cut clean off. Had they bonded and Thorin still chose to leave, Bilbo would not have survived the heartbreak.” 

Bilbo was breathing heavily while listening carefully. “Do you think Thorin knew that?” 

“I assume he had some inkling though it is hard to tell with alphas and especially him. I thought he was over his madness, you should have told me, he is our cousin and he needed our support.” 

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. He had once asked Thorin if he was related to Gimli and he had clammed up, becoming shifty eyed and cantankerous. He could hear him now, laughing sardonically and he could picture him sat on the bed staring at the wall pointedly ignoring him though his lips always quirked up in a small smile when he was aware he was being watched. Bilbo would do anything to see that smile again, to hear him laugh deep and dark or light and jovial, it didn’t matter. He would even tolerate being pelted by raisins on a daily basis if it would put an end to the crucifying loneliness and the ache within his chest. 

“I’ll stay with Bilbo tonight,” Gimli stated in his version of an offer. He was headstrong and direct which left no room for quarrelling much to Oin’s chagrin. 

“Fine.” Oin huffed and walked over to the cell laying a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “You will be staying here, but you have an appointment with me one week from today. But if there is anything and I mean anything, a question, even if daft, I want you to come find me.” Bilbo nodded. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Bilbo solemnly swore as his tears stopped. 

Oin gazed into his eyes as if to detect deceit and then moved back satisfied. “Very well, I shall have some food sent up and remember to get plenty of rest.” Oin advised and then left the room pulling the door closed behind him. Bilbo almost scoffed, rest was a luxury for those with an untroubled mind. 

“Thorin is your cousin?” Bilbo asked, turning towards Gimli. There was no malice within his question just genuine intrigue. 

“Third cousin, once removed.” Gimli replied and then kicked off his boots. He caught Bilbo’s curious look and pointed to the bed. “Time for bed.”

“Bed? It can’t be past six in the evening.”

Gimli climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets securely around him. “This is the first night I have had without two screaming children, I mean to exploit it.” Bilbo laughed as Gimli turned onto his side and moments later he was snoring softly. Bilbo was at least thankful for the volume of his snores and he shrugged off Thorin’s surcoat and climbed into the other side of the bed and laid the coat next to him. He buried his nose in the fur at the collar and wept a little as Thorin’s scent was slowly being replaced with his own. 

He imagined Thorin laid next to him, with his large fingers absently toying with the curls above his ear as he was wont to do. He wanted nothing more than to curl into his warm embrace, press a kiss to soft lips and rest his head against a solid chest and be lulled to sleep by his strong heartbeat. “Ghivashel,” he whimpered softly and ran his hand down the length of the coat wishing for Thorin to return to him, for one more night or he would even settle for one single moment so he could tell him he was going to be a father. 

“Huh?” Gimli startled next to him which in turn startled him. The bed shifted as Gimli turned onto his back. “Thought you were Legolas, how did you come by that word?” He asked suspiciously. 

“Thorin wr…said it, to me.” Bilbo amended. It had been written first in spilled ink and though the stained carpet would support his confession he did not think Gimli would believe him. “I miss him so much it’s tearing me apart and now I’ve learned I’ve wronged him. I would have followed him anywhere, I would have given up Bag End if he had asked me to but now he’s gone I just want to go home.” 

“You make it sound as if he’s dead.” 

“He’s on another world to me, he walks a different plain so far beyond my reach. We almost made it to a year and during that time he was mine, Gimli…he was mine.” He drops his head onto the coat and allows his grief to consume him as Gimli rests a comforting arm around his waist and tries to soothe his broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Gimli and Legolas won't be further addressed. Firstly it would be terrible on their part to mention it to Bilbo and secondly, it leaves the door open for me to write a spin off. 
> 
> Once again I want to thank you for the comments. There were discussions about my work, that was so great and flattering to read so thank you :)


	21. Chapter 21

Knocking on his door caused Bilbo to scowl into the salad bowl resting on his lap. 

“I’m eating!” _nanny_ he did not add. He was tired of the constant supervision barely piecing together a moment’s peace without someone forcing a cracker down his throat. 

“Are you decent?” A familiar voice called out as the door partially opened and a head poked in wearing a furred hat with upturned earflaps. “I know you’re not,” Bofur finished, grinning wickedly and winking his eye. 

“Bofur!” Bilbo cried in joy rather than chastisement and began shifting his weight trying to stand.

“Look at you!” Bofur exclaimed entering the room and staring at his swollen stomach. “How many are you carrying?” Bilbo became still as Bofur approached and he wiped the sweat from his brow from that small exertion. 

“Just the one,” he patted his stomach fully aware he was fit to carry four from the overabundance of food that was shovelled down his throat on a daily basis. 

Bofur took a seat beside him and rested his hand on his stomach, smiling winningly when he felt the baby kick. “Not long now, little Bofur.”

“I am not calling my child Bofur.” 

Bofur retracted his hand and eyed the hobbit scandalised. “And here was me thinking we were friends.”

“We are, but why are you here? You have your own life now in the Blue Mountains.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have time for my friends, plus I was summoned here. I’m to escort you home once the bairn is born and you’re ready to leave.” Bofur’s hand rested on his stomach once more at the mention of the baby and he quickly pulled it back. “Little kicker,” Bofur remarked and Bilbo laughed. 

“Only kicks when a hand is on my stomach, kicking people away, unsociable thing. We all know who your father is.” He said the latter to his stomach, thankful that tears no longer welled in his eyes at the mere mention of his alpha. 

“King Under the bloody Mountain,” Bofur shakes his head in amazement. “I’ve seen the heir of Durin’s cock, Ma was proud.” 

“Bofur!” 

“Ha!” Bofur called out victoriously. “Eight months pregnant and still a prude. Found your match in Ori though, he is the sweetest little thing. Sheltered, virginal with an eye for the bad boys, honestly the rougher and meaner they are the keener he is. He has his eye on this one dwarf, Dwalin, used to be a big deal in Erebor, captain of the King’s Guard third cousin to Thorin and his best friend by all accounts. Well until Thorin jailed him for no other reason than being related to another prisoner. Fíli pardoned him and offered him the position of King’s Guard and I heard he told Fíli that Thorin was the king and he was a bratty upstart. Kíli banished him, he was lucky he wasn’t sent to the pens but those kids had enough respect for him not to do that. Shame they didn’t respect Thorin enough.”

“Wait, I brought you to my room, I showed you Thorin, why did you not tell me who he was when I had asked?” 

“I know of Thorin but I had never met him and had no idea what he looked like. When you brought me to your room, you asked me if I knew his name without telling me what Gimli had said. Had you told me his name I would have told you everything.” Bilbo nodded, knowing Bofur was speaking the truth. “Bilbo?” Bofur asked uncharacteristically solemn. “What happened between you and Thorin?” 

Bilbo set the bowl aside feeling queasy. He had felt ill all day though he was long past morning sickness. “Everything was fine, wonderful in fact. I was happy, too happy and it was a happiness built on lies and it all came crashing down.” Tears leak from his eyes once more much to his surprise as he was quite sure he had no more left to shed. “He slept with Bard.” 

“Bard came into your room and sl…” Bofur started, angrily. 

“No, before that. The elf and the dwarf he keeps running off to? They actually exist, the dwarf was Thorin and the elf is the exiled Elvenking, Thranduil.”

“Well blow me,” Bofur breathes out and sits back down on the bed. “So, what’s the problem?” 

Bilbo eyed Bofur suddenly fearing he was being unreasonable in the dwarf’s eyes. “He got Bard pregnant, _twice!_ ” He tried to emphasise his point but Bofur looks unmoved. 

“And?”

“And he didn’t tell me!” Bilbo snapped. 

“Aye, but your supposing he knew.”

“Well…he…I…” Bilbo stuttered in response. In truth, he had been angry for so long it had festered and he was no longer sure what he was even angry about. “He knew about Bard,” he adds spitefully. 

“How?”

“Bard ever so generously lent me his clothes for Thorin to wear.” Venom pours off his tongue coating his words in its poison. “Thorin eventually wore them and the look on his face, I knew something was wrong but I didn’t want to know. He could have told me, he could have told me many things, like who he even was.”

“Would you have believed him?” Bofur asked honestly, and no, he probably would not have but he ignores the answer as his mind questions Bofur’s loyalty. 

“Why are you defending him?” He asks suspiciously and arches a brow while Bofur raises his hands in surrender. 

“Look, I’m happy to sit with you and call Bard all the names under the sun because I’m your friend not his. We could even call Thorin names if you wanted. If that would help, then I’ll do it but I don’t think it will. I have never seen you as happy as you were with Thorin and that was when he was being a git so I can only imagine how ecstatic you were when he behaved himself. Are you truly willing to let that go? He’s your One, Bilbo, that is no little thing, but if the bridge is burnt so be it, I won’t flog a dead horse.” 

“You make it sound as if it’s my choice and it never was. He’s a dreamer, striving for things he can never have and I’m a dreamer too thinking I could settle with someone like that. He wants a kingdom, I want a hobbit hole. He wants a kingship, I just wanted a mate for life. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“And if he came back?”

“He’s not a boomerang, he’s not coming back. He has a nephew to overthrow and a kingdom to regain.” 

“But if he did?”

“When, if, maybe, I can’t afford to dream again, Bofur, the price is too high and my heart is too heavy. I let him go, I fulfilled my part of the bargain and,” he pauses to pat his stomach and is promptly kicked in retaliation. “He fulfilled his. He gave me a child, he gave me a home and he gave me an adventure as short as it may have been.” He pauses and wipes at the remaining tears determined to be happy when he thought of Thorin, not sad. “He would have given me his heart if it weren’t so broken. If he came back I would be overjoyed but if he stayed away I would understand.” 

Bofur nods no longer adorning a roguish grin but a glum expression which Bilbo is truly sorry for. Bofur lays back on the bed, making himself at home before shrieking and sitting up rubbing at his elbow while glaring at the bed. 

“What’s this?” He asks plucking his sewing needles and the discarded blue babygro that hung between them from the bed. Bofur twists and turns the babygro in his hands sceptically, clearly finding fault with Bilbo’s attempt. “You’re having a boy? An exceptionally well-endowed boy?” He questioned with an arched eyebrow and Bilbo blushed scandalised. 

“Those are the leg holes and that is for his arm,” Bilbo pointed out blushing fiercely. 

“So, you believe your child will be deformed?”

“Good heavens, no!”

“Okay you do know children have torsos? You aren’t dressing Thorin’s sperm.” 

“Bofur!” Bilbo cried out followed by an eruption of laughter. He clutched his sides and despite the pain it truly felt good to laugh again. “I was told sewing was therapeutic, I suppose I should have taken up crochet.”

“And a good game it is too, if you’ve got the balls for it.” 

Bilbo chuckled wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, a welcomed change. “Do you ever stop? How does Nori put up with you?” 

Bofur grinned cheekily. “He sends me off on adventures, returning hobbits home and such.”

“I would have liked to have met him. You should send word, have him meet us at Bag End.” Bilbo encouraged while Bofur shifted uncomfortable.

“About that…”

“Oh no, sorry, it’s silly of me. You are a bonded couple, you need time alone. Is everything okay? You are not,” he was incapable of finishing the sentence and instead pointed to Bofur’s stomach. 

“How many times, Bilbo? Not every heat results in pregnancy and we sure did go at it, I even used some moves I picked up from you.” Bilbo would have cried out scandalised but Bofur’s peculiar actions had him on the backfoot. Bofur had dropped the cardigan and held his left arm out, hand fisted as if were clutching something while his right hand was doing a slapping motion. 

“I don’t recall doing that,” Bilbo stated primly. 

“Riding.” 

“Bofur!” Bofur cackled manically beside him, clutching his ribs and laying back kicking his feet. 

“Oh, it never gets old,” Bofur panted and tried to calm himself. “Anyway, you are more than welcome to visit Nori in Ered Luin since he’s kind of, sort of, maybe under mountain arrest, perhaps.” 

“Under arrest, why?” 

“Sticky fingers.”

“Will I be welcome there?” Bofur gave him an incredulous look. 

“You carry the heir of Durin, dwarven doors with secret passwords would fall open before you.” 

“If only carrying his heir was such a rarity. Still, everyone deserves to carry a prince or princess, I can’t fault Thorin for single handily repopulating the earth.” 

“That was harsh,” Bofur stated with a seriousness he usually lacked. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said it.”

“Let’s just say the baby made you do it and leave it at that, yeah?” Bilbo nodded, upset with himself for disparaging Bofur’s king. “Are you okay on your own while I visit some old friends?” 

“Of course, Bofur, take as long as you need.” Bofur smiled winningly and dashed off as if he could not be away from Bilbo fast enough. Bilbo could not blame him, lately he wished he could take leave of himself also.

Grabbing the post on the bed, Bilbo pulled himself up and waddled over to his writing desk. There a stack of parchments rested awaiting the final page to be written and Bilbo was sure if given enough time it would come to him. 

Sitting heavily in the chair, Bilbo perused the title _There and Back Again,_ and sighed happily. For so long he had desired to write a story and for years the words escaped him until he had met Thorin and in the burning chaos that was their relationship he finally found the inspiration to write. It was a tale of adventure by all accounts but at its very heart it was a tale of romance, of love, loss, jealousy and greed. 

It started as one might think, in a hole in the ground, where there lived a hobbit. A lonely thing torn between two bloodlines, one craving adventure while the other wanting only family and home. Add in a meddling wizard and suddenly the hobbit’s world is turned upside down as he is promised an adventure of a lifetime. The good wholesome hobbit is employed as a burglar to retrieve a jewel for the exiled prince who owned the most gorgeous stormy eyes and his heart sang to the hobbit’s but it wasn’t enough. He was too sheltered, too afraid to follow his heart until not only did the prince’s heart sing but then he did too and the hobbit could not deny his attraction and thirst for adventure. But he was a hobbit with a love for the comfort of home and as he slept he awoke too late and the entourage had gone, leaving behind a contract. 

Later he joins them, contract signed but the prince has no love for him and no song to sing. Instead he becomes suspicious of the hobbit and greatly dislikes him while completely underestimating him. Through many tasks the hobbit tries to prove himself but the prince will not accept him even when the wizard forces him to acknowledge the hobbit’s worth. The hobbit is left heart broken and when the prince spews venom in a fit of rage he packs up his things to leave and though the prince looks sad he makes no moves to stop him. 

Then the floor gives out and the hobbit’s life is changed forever when he becomes separated and finds a ring with the most marvellous power, the power of invisibility. Lost for hours he finally finds his friends and he flees the mountain but he forgets that he still wore the ring and though he stood among them they could not see him and the wizard was concerned but the prince was furious. He picked on the hobbit for no other reason than because he was a hobbit and from the hobbit’s perceived absence the prince was utterly spiteful, gaining momentum, raising his voice and stomping his feet like a petulant child. 

The hobbit considered leaving as the dwarven prince was too mean spirited but beneath the temper was a deep hurt and so the hobbit removed his ring to show he had not left them and perhaps he was only too small to see. The prince though, the dashing raven-haired prince, would not leave the hobbit alone. He was a bully through and through demanding the hobbit’s attention while at the same time encouraging the hobbit to leave. He had known the hobbit had wished to leave, he had watched and done nothing and now he demanded an explanation disregarding all the nasty theories he had come up with. 

That was a pivotal moment for their relationship. The prince, the bothersome beautiful bully had revealed too much. The prince who would become king, who could only encourage twelve dwarves to follow him felt dreadfully alone and devalued. It was not that he did not like the hobbit it was only that he had lost faith within himself as his people had lost faith in him. Through bribery he had gained his twelve dwarves and they weren’t the best of dwarves, bakers, toymakers and thieves. The dwarves had a love of gold like himself and he could understand but he could not understand the hobbit that followed him because of a song. 

That moment, among the trees, gathered together as they were, the prince believed the hobbit. Then disaster struck, as it did, good things rarely lasted and the peace and tranquillity the prince and the hobbit shared was torn apart by none other than Azog the Defiler. 

Bilbo had described him as a seven-and-a-half-foot orc and he was the embodiment of his jealousy. The prince had fought him once, severed his left arm and believed him to be dead and the hobbit believed his story and thought Azog was dead too. But evil like jealousy does not die and even one-armed it is still terribly dangerous and it despised the prince and vowed to do away with him. 

The journey continued, much harder than before as they were chased by bears, spiders, elves and orcs. All the while the prince and the hobbit grew closer so very near to sharing a kiss but never quite managing to as there was always something to come between them. 

They reclaim the mountain and the dragon is slain though the prince now proclaiming himself king becomes very sick. His love for the hobbit becomes dangerous, he confides in him dark things his mind had conjured from nothing. He cares only for the jewel of his house and he believes someone had taken it and he was correct but he did not know that he was speaking to the thief that had. The hobbit was not cruel hearted, he had traded the jewel for the king’s safety because bad things were coming and the king was making more enemies than friends. 

When the king finds out, his heart is broken and with tears in his eyes he attempts to take the hobbit’s life and the hobbit cannot fault him however scared he may be. The wizard intervenes and the hobbit is saved but the king is sick, too sick to help as his people wage war to defend what is his by birth right. He holes himself up in the mountain thinking only of the gold while his kin are slaughtered at the very gate of his ancestral home.

He listens to their screams, and he does not care. He watches the blood of his kin seep through his blockade and he does not care. He is told they are losing the battle and still the gold calls to him until he is told he has changed and he has wronged the hobbit whose only crime was to love him.

Through their bond, he battles back, tossing his crown aside. He knocks down his blockade and he joins the fight and he tips the balance, he and his brave twelve. Upon the battlefield, he is beauty personified as he dances the dance of death, a lethal skilled killer on the side of light. The war rages on and as king, or simply an honourable dwarf he decides to cut the head off the snake and he fights the cruel and unreasonable Azog. 

The hobbit tries to help, the prince did not have to fight alone, Azog was their battle and needed to be fought together. But the prince, now a king was headstrong and determined and Azog had ruined so much for him that he fought him alone and though he eventually did strike the killing blow he had to take one to deliver one. 

The hobbit uses his ring trying desperately to get to the king and when he finally does the king is standing, overlooking the war as the eagles come and Azog lay dead, the king’s sword through his heart. The hobbit breathes a sigh of relief until the king releases a pained gasp and drops down into the snow. He rushes to the aid of his love believing the power of his love was enough to heal him but the snow is becoming red beneath the king and his skin has taken on a deathly pallor and in his last moments on earth he apologises. Though their love is strong he does not speak of it and he apologises for desiring meaningless gems and asks only that they part in friendship, as if they were no more than that. The hobbit can offer him that much and the king takes his final breath and dies with his eyes open and hand firmly clutching the hobbit’s. 

The hobbit screamed his grief until his lungs gave out and he would not move from the king’s side. He longed for death, as there was nothing left for him. Love was supposed to keep the king safe but it was not enough and the foul thing known as Azog got its wish and took the king from him as it always vowed to do. 

Bilbo sat back and wiped the tears from his eyes after re-reading his work. He was very happy with it but true events had inspired it and it still hurt that love could not conquer petty jealousy. The screams of grief he had written about were very real, and had left him incapable of speech for many weeks. It had been the third month of Thorin’s absence and either because he had travelled too far or it had been too long their fragile bond that had been stretched so thin had finally snapped scarring Bilbo’s mind and throwing him back into a world of emptiness. He had lost his mind in the agony of it and had to be sectioned in Oin’s ward on the promise that no one would touch his things or clean his room.

He was better now, as good as he was going to get anyway. He climbed off the chair and clutched the table feeling unsteady on his feet. His head ached terribly and his stomach was in knots though he did not know why. Deciding sleep was best, he waddled over to his wardrobe and there, in the bottom of the corner was his torn gold waistcoat. He pulled it out and walked over the bed and sat down resting it on his knees. It wouldn’t fit him now, but the tear was clean, he might be able to mend it himself should he want to and he finds that he does not want to.

He strokes his hand over the fabric when Bofur enters, cheerful as you like. It’s infectious and he smiles back despite how terribly ill he is feeling. “What ye got there?” Bofur asks, pointing to his waistcoat. 

“I was wearing this the night of the auction,” he replies, remembering the timid hobbit he once was. “I was wearing this the first time he kissed me and on the day I realised I loved him.” He picks at a loose thread unable to look Bofur in the eye. “Despite everything, I think he loved me once.” 

“I never stopped.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think I would leave it there for a week, did you? I'm evil but I'm not _that_ evil

Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of a voice he thought he would only hear in his dreams. He stared intently at the material in his lap fearing to look up and break the illusion should Thorin not be standing at his door. 

“Look what I found,” Bofur’s cheer momentarily cuts through his anxiety and he lifts his head, dragging his gaze up furred boots bound with leather straps. He lifts his head higher spying leather trousers and further to a heavy jewel-less belt and an empty scabbard, to navy blue robes and a furred surcoat, up to broad shoulders where wild uncombed black hair rests. 

It is with a great deal of effort that he finally tilts his head back and stares at the beautiful visage of a love he thought he had lost. Thorin looks unwell, his skin a shade paler than unusual and his lips are downturned and his gaze downcast but even in misery he is perfection. Even so, Bilbo is torn between embracing him knowing his warmth would ignite the fire to his bonfire heart, or simply slapping him for leaving. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Bofur announces and walks swiftly towards the door.

“Bofur no, Bofur please, Bofur!” Bilbo calls after him but the quirky dwarf ignores him and shuts the door for good measure, closing them both in together. 

The tension is palpable as they both simply stare at one another with hopeful gazes. “You left,” Bilbo simply states. As much as he wishes to declare his undying love for the alpha he cannot ignore the tension between them. 

“Only because you made it impossible for me to stay.” Thorin answers defensively and Bilbo swallows his nasty retort tasting venom on his tongue. “I know why you did it and I don’t blame you, I thought Bain was mine as well.” Bilbo was shaking his head choosing not to listen to Thorin wax poetical about Bard but even he could not ignore his words. 

“Bain, he’s not…he’s not yours?” Thorin shakes his head, no. 

“Neither is the baby, if you were wondering. I realised how it looked but do not hate Bard too much. He came to me only because I am a link to Thranduil and he begged me for any news and used the bairn to loosen my tongue.” 

“Thranduil,” Bilbo spits. “Where is your elf?” 

“I brought him with me.” 

Bilbo scoffs irately. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen but I can tell you, you are mistaken!” If it weren’t for the baby, Bilbo would have left in an indignant huff. 

“Mahal help me!” Thorin snapped. “Come with me, Master Baggins.” He approached the bed and reached for Bilbo’s arm but he slapped his reaching hands away. 

“Get your filthy mitts off me!” He protested still slapping at the dwarf’s hands to no avail as the dwarf helped him up from the bed. 

“You’re being insufferable,” Thorin told him. 

“You’re insufferable,” he answered back as Thorin led him towards the window. 

“Nice comeback,” Thorin mocked and he couldn’t help but laugh at the picture they made before quickly schooling his features. “There!” Thorin crowed victoriously, pointing. “Look.” 

Bilbo paused, taking a moment for himself unwilling to play Thorin’s stooge. Still, curiosity got the better of him and he looked out of the window upon the grassy knoll where the children tended to play. There was no one directly below but a little distance away a tall blond stood out like a sore thumb. In his arms, he held what seemed to be a squalling baby and he could see Bard and his brood surrounding the elf looking doe-eyed and in awe. Gimli and Legolas were also there, holding a child each looking somewhat misplaced but happy. 

“Thranduil is Bard’s One.” Bilbo staggered back, mind reeling and Thorin caught his arm on reflex. 

“That doesn’t make any sense, you thought Bain was yours and he was Bard’s second child. If they are a match how did you end up between Bard’s legs?” 

Thorin sighed, put upon. “Have a seat and I shall tell you.” Bilbo nodded and sat at his desk as the chair was nearest and Thorin knelt before him, clutching Bilbo’s hands that rested on his lap. “Myself and Thranduil were on the run for reasons I shall tell you about later. We had split up and were foraging for food as all our money and gems had been traded and spent. I had found an apple tree when I heard a commotion and I climbed up and hid. I watched as several hunters led my friend, Beorn away. He was a skin changer, the last of his kind after the war and he desired only solitude. He had been good to me and Thranduil, feeding us when we became too thin and putting a roof over our heads when it became too cold. He was one of those that believed their One could only be of the same race and as he was the last of his kind and strong he feared no one. Then the hunters started bringing out omegas in heat, a new tactic that had caught so many in its infancy. I was angry, so furious that they had done that to Beorn and one night, not long after, an omega in heat walked right past me so I grabbed it. I considered killing it in revenge, leaving its corpse for the hunters to find but then it would reflect badly on my kind and we were treated appallingly enough. Its scent did nothing for me, I had spent years denying I was an alpha, I could easily ignore their scent though I always feared catching the scent of my One.” He pauses then, looking up through his thick black lashes. “I was right to be afraid.” 

Bilbo swallowed thickly as even he could not deny the primal need to mate when Thorin was so close to him. “Go on,” he encouraged. 

“I could not just let it go, so I used it, may as well. I had denied my alpha for so long and here was this little bitch using something I despise to the very core of my being against me. So, I fucked it, not like it was complaining and after I had my fun, I thought Thranduil should have his. I did not know I had kidnapped Thranduil’s One and he was furious with me as he claimed I had brought him his downfall. I apologised for trespassing, as it were but Thranduil said if he could watch me fuck his One he will know he could stay free and it was spiteful to the Valar, fucking them over as they had screwed us. So, I accepted and we had fun in our unholy trinity and then we sent Bard away when he became boring. Throughout the years, he kept on coming back, he had Thranduil’s scent and he could find him anywhere. I realise now it was because he had had Thranduil’s children but at the time I mistook him for part bloodhound as Thranduil had refused to bond with him. Each time the deal remained, I was a test to Thranduil’s self-restraint. Me and Bard were no love match, I fucked him because Thranduil asked me to and I was so angry at the world.” 

Bilbo moved his hands from Thorin’s reach and watched the dwarf’s shoulders slump in defeat. “When I gave you Bard’s clothes why didn’t you just tell me?”

Thorin regarded him with a look of incredulity. “And tell you those clothes smelled like an omega I’ve fucked?” Bilbo shrugged, realising he had point. “I fucked him, that’s the truth of it and I’m sorry that hurt you but I can’t change the past. It is what it is, but I _never_ loved him and I certainly never made love to him. I haven’t made love to anyone but _you.”_

“But you didn’t tell me anything about yourself.” Thorin climbs up off his knees and shrugs off his surcoat and unbuckles his belt, dropping it to the floor. Bilbo merely folds his arms unimpressed that Thorin had resorted to sex to win the argument. Still, he can’t find it in himself to look away and how had Thorin put it? ‘ _may as well._ ’ The robe comes off next, swiftly followed by the undershirt and suddenly Thorin is on his knees before him again, and taking one of his hands to press against his chest. 

“Dís,” He says pressing his fingertips against the clear name above the scar. He moves his hand further up. “Thráin the Second,” he states and moves his fingers again. “Thrór, Dáin, Náin the Second.” He continues moving Bilbo’s fingers in an intricate path. “Óin, Gloin, Thorin the First, Thráin the First, Náin the First, Durin the Sixth.” At that he releases the hobbit’s hand. “It is the line of Kings dating all the way back to Durin the Deathless.” He points to his elbow where the tattoo begins. “Bilbo, I used to be….”

“King under the Mountain?” Bilbo finishes and Thorin sits back on his haunches in dismay. 

“You knew?” 

“Long after you had left.”

“You could have said.”

“And deny myself the sight of your body?” Thorin smirks and runs a hand down his stomach which is flat and toned once more, Bilbo preferred him fat. 

“Am I forgiven?” He asks hopefully.

“I…” Bilbo hesitates. “I don’t know,” he finishes lamely. “We don’t want the same things,” he adds by way of explanation. 

“Yes we do!” Thorin protests getting to his feet once more. 

“Do we?” Bilbo asks meaningfully and suddenly Thorin looks trapped, looking around the room as if looking for an escape. 

“I’m sorry, I forsook you for a kingdom. I was blind and driven by my own selfish wants that I was ready to leave you and my…my own child.” His voice breaks as he eyes Bilbo’s stomach and tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to be that person anymore,” he says moving away. “Forget Thorin, _fuck_ Thorin,” he stresses and then enters into his old cell. “I’ll be Raven, I’ll tear this whole tattoo off if I have to, please just let me be your Raven again.” 

Bilbo wiped at his own tears, so desperate to say yes and yet too frightened of the consequences. Thorin was at the bars begging, pleading with him and he could not bring him comfort. “Please, Bilbo,” Thorin continued tearing at Bilbo’s heartstrings. “I have never been as happy in my life as I am when I’m with you and I think you feel that way too.” He paused for a moment and then pulled folded well-thumbed parchment from his pocket and with a sinking feeling Bilbo realised it was his misplaced poetry. Thorin had taken it with him. “I think the hobbit that wrote this would give me a second chance. I’m one hundred and ninety-five Bilbo, I have lived a life though much of it has been in denial but I can promise you whatever years are left to me I will spend them with you in the home beneath the oak tree with all of our children.” 

“All?” Bilbo enquired with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“You didn’t think I was really going to stop at one, did you?” He winked lewdly and then seemed to sober. “It does currently stand at one, Bilbo. As old as I am I have only ever slept with two people, one out of vengeance and one out of love. I am aware my cousin Dain named his son Thorin but it was a ruse, Dain covets the throne more than I and he wished to throw doubt over Fíli’s legitimacy.” 

“Were you not promised to Dain?” 

“Indeed, I was. Fíli’s first ruling could very well have been his last.” Bilbo arched an eyebrow willing Thorin to continue. “I would have stood in the way of Fíli and Kíli, I would have prevented their happiness. I understand why they did what they did and though I love them I cannot forgive them. Even so my anger would not see them dead, merely incarcerated. Fíli thought to honour me, by giving me a title but the moronic fool knew nothing of Dain’s desire for the throne. He would have tried to force a bond and the moment his stomach swelled with my child he would have murdered Fíli and Kíli in their beds while doing away with me or simply tossing me into the pens claiming he had found his One. I had to leave and escape that fate, protecting my nephews no matter how badly they had wronged me. I ran to the Greenwood, Dain spread rumours that I was in the Iron Hills and I never was. When he became pregnant he tried to name me father but by then I had already been declared dead, a victim of the Great Fire.” Bilbo looked on with widened eyes, shocked to learn the true reason why Thorin fled.

“I longed for the throne,” Thorin continues. “But I realise now that it will never be mine again. I am a Great Uncle, Fíli has recently given birth to his seventh child, a prince and I realised that I didn’t care. I wanted to honour the terms of our contract, I wanted to watch your stomach swell with our child and then after our child was born I wanted to do it again. I won’t leave your side, Raven has never wronged you.”

“I liked Raven,” Bilbo concedes. “But I loved Thorin.”

“Loved or love?” Thorin asks unsure. 

“Do you really need to ask?” Bilbo laughs despite his tears. “Get out of that cell and come over here, Daddy.” Not having to be told twice, Thorin quickly leaves the cell and is on his knees before him once more pressing a hand to his stomach and pulling it back startled. “Takes after you,” Bilbo laughed and stared into the beautiful forget-me-not eyes and stroked his fingers through wild hair or at least tried. “You look like a vagabond, what am I going to do with you?”

“Take me home,” Thorin offered. “Bond with me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bilbo teased and leaned forward to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Blimey, you two don’t mess about!” Bofur proclaimed ending their kiss. Bilbo wondered what he had meant until he realised Thorin was shirtless and on his knees in front of him. “Room for a little one?” 

“Bofur!” Bilbo and Thorin cried together and Bofur clutched his heart and staggered back. 

“I have never heard something so beautiful,” Bofur said wiping at a tear that was not there. “You prudes will be the death of me, Mahal love ya. I have a room for the night so no need to concern yourself with little ol’ me, I’ll be fine, on my own, all by myself.” He sighed dramatically and slowly made his way to the door. “Don’t jostle the bairn too much during your riding lesson.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo and Thorin both shouted again. 

“I love it, music to my soul. You prudes belong together, don’t ever scare me again.” He finished seriously and then left the room. 

“We do belong together,” Thorin agreed, staring into his eyes as if he were the greatest treasure on the earth. It only made him more enthusiastic to see his face when the baby was born. 

“’Till death do us part.”

“Longer still, my love for you defies death.” 

Bilbo couldn’t help himself and laughed. “You sap,” he chuckled over the ridiculous situation they had found themselves in. 

“Me? I learnt from the best. I told you, you were not the only poet in this relationship. I love you, ghivashel.” 

“We’re not bonding until you tell me what that means and I love you too. I don’t care who you were I care only for who you are. Besides the title of king is a lowly position as you’ve always been a God to me.” If he should die that very moment he would deem his death a good one, as Thorin’s smile lit up the room and the look in his eyes made Bilbo curse himself for ever questioning the dwarf’s devotion to him. 

“Sap.” It’s true and he takes it, and leans forward kissing his One as if it were the last time while hoping it was only one of many, many more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue due on Christmas day as my gift to you all for sticking with this story xx


	23. Chapter 23

“Raven,” Bilbo huffed quietly. “Raven,” he whispered insistently but without volume to his voice his words lacked authority. 

A loud crash sounded moments later and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut. Thankfully he heard nothing else and turned the corner to find Raven knelt down picking up shards of glass. 

“Raven no!” He shrieked and moments later a baby started wailing. “Why can’t you just behave yourself? You’ve woken your sister, and I had just gotten her off to sleep, now put your shoes on.”

“No!” Raven spat petulantly, glaring at him with his father’s eyes. 

“Shall I count?” Bilbo threatened hoping he would not get to three because he hadn’t thought of a suitable punishment as Belladonna’s screams rattled inside his mind. “One,” he began and tapped his foot while Raven jutted out his chin defiantly. “Two,” a brief look of worry crossed the child’s face but he was as stubborn as his father. “Two and a half,” he said testily and suddenly the whirling tornado that was his son was up and running towards the front door. 

Bilbo tried to hurry after him but made little progress due to his heavily pregnant stomach and swollen ankles. He watched almost in horror as the door swung open narrowly missing his son and suddenly Thorin was there, sweeping their son up into his arms with dirty hands mucking up their son’s clothing. 

“What’s all the commotion?” Thorin asked and Raven had the audacity to shrug and bat his eyes at his father. Those two were as thick as thieves and Bilbo sighed annoyed. 

“Your son,” Bilbo snapped. 

“How come when he misbehaves he’s my son, but when he’s good he’s your son?” Bilbo only levelled him with a glare in lieu of an answer. “Okay papa is upset, go put your shoes on and I’ll take you over for a playdate with Frodo.” Thorin placed Raven down and he immediately went over to the shoe rack and pulled his shoes on while wrestling with the intricate straps. 

Bilbo spluttered at the spectacle and waddled out of the parlour and into Belladonna’s room. He leaned over the crib and touched a chubby flushed cheek momentarily stopping her tears.

“She needs a feed,” he said to the presence behind him and turned to find Thorin stood in the doorway. Gone were the lavish robes and surcoats instead he wore a plain white shirt tucked into brown breeches. He’d had him in braces and a waistcoat once and though it had been highly amusing Thorin kicked up such a fuss it never happened again. 

“I’ll do it,” Thorin offered. 

“You’re taking the little prince to Drogo’s.” Bilbo reminded. “Come now, stop dawdling, get out of my way.” Bilbo shooed him trying to leave the room and get to the kitchen. 

“You should be in bed, you need a lie-down, you can’t be fussing in your state.” Bilbo placed his hands on his hips. 

“If I’m not mistaken it was your suggestion of a lie-down that got me into this state.” Thorin winked his left eye and smirked devilishly as he stepped aside and followed Bilbo into the kitchen. 

“Whatever happened to the hobbit that promised to carry as many children as I would give him?” Thorin mused while Bilbo set about heating some water on the stove. 

Bilbo turned and patted his stomach, triplets Gandalf had said, _triplets._ Once Raven was born they had tried immediately to get pregnant again but it had taken over a year for Thorin’s seed to take and after Belladonna was born, he found out two months later that he was pregnant. They were told it was twins at first but as Bilbo grew larger they desired a second opinion and Gandalf was more than happy to oblige being an old friend of his mother’s. 

“He did not realise he was talking to a dwarf who would see it as a challenge.” He answered back and felt a shiver run down his spine the way Thorin looked at him. “Sixteen, by the way,” he added and placed a readymade bottle into the bubbling water. 

“What?” Thorin asked, shaking his head trying to clear his thoughts. 

“The largest family in the Shire is sixteen children. Sixteen to draw, seventeen to win.” Thorin approached him then, planting a firm kiss on his lips while patting his backside undoubtedly leaving a sooty handprint in its wake. 

“I’ve always liked the number twenty-one,” he practically purred. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say it was my _favourite_ number.” 

“No one has a favourite number,” Bilbo scoffed. 

“I do and it’s twenty-one.” 

Bilbo stole a kiss while the opportunity was there. “Twenty-one is a very nice number, I can see why you like it.” He agreed. 

“Yeah?” Thorin asked with enthusiasm. 

“Twenty-one is my favourite number too,” Bilbo whispered looping his arms around Thorin’s neck. 

“Imagine that,” Thorin teased and then pressed their lips together. Their intimacy was short indeed as Belladonna decided to voice her hunger in the shrillest of screams. “I suppose she’s my daughter,” Thorin joked anticipating Bilbo’s jibe. 

“No actually, those lungs on her are very much mine.” Bilbo dropped his arms and fished out the bottle with some tongs and a tea towel and tested the temperature on his wrist finding it satisfactory. “Go take Raven while I feed Belladonna.” Thorin hesitated before finally listening to reason and he walked back into the parlour where their son was waiting patiently. 

“Come here my little prince,” Thorin opened his arms and Raven eagerly ran into them and was lifted once more. His clothes were covered in soot due to Thorin leaving his make-shift forge beside their home without washing his hands but there was little he could do about it and he was sure Drogo and Primula would understand. Thorin opened the door, holding their son one-handed and pressed against his side. He pressed a kiss against his fingers and blew in Bilbo’s direction and Bilbo’s heart melted as Raven mimicked his father. 

The moment the door closes, Bilbo goes into Belladonna’s room and lifts her from the crib and walks over to the chair. She doesn’t seem too interested in the bottle but she’s a glutton like her papa and drinks because she can. Bilbo can’t take his eyes off her from her black curls and aqua eyes to her dainty little feet, she was going to be a heartbreaker just like her father.

She drinks half the bottle before losing interest and it’s while he has her in his arms patting her back encouraging her to burp which usually involved vomit over his shoulder that he realises he may have glorified having children. Still, as incredibly naïve as he had been he would not change it for the world and twenty-one really was a wonderful number. 

Twenty-one names though…that would be interesting. He had offered to name their first born Frerin in honour of Thorin’s deceased brother but Thorin had baulked at the idea. At first, he had feared he had been insensitive but when he suggested naming him after Thorin’s father or grandfather who were much loved and very much missed, Thorin had declined again. 

Thorin wanted no connection to his old life, as he did not wish to reminisce of all the things he had lost. He was happy to call his son a prince and his daughter a princess as an inside joke but he would do no more than that. Instead he was happy for people to believe he had perished in the Great Fire, and he was both amused and angered when he heard Erebor had been in mourning and his ashes were buried in the catacombs among the kings of old.

When he had been attacked in the Greenwood and left for dead his sword that belonged to the scabbard he had was taken in proof of his demise. Bilbo was not the least surprised to learn it was in fact an elvish blade forged by the high elves in the West named Orcrist and gifted to him by Thranduil himself when he was only a boy and the sword had been larger than him at the time. After the fire, it was taken to Rivendell and gifted to Elrond but he was beside himself with grief as he did not realise his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir were a part of Thranduil’s fifteen thousand strong army. His obsession with bringing about Thranduil’s downfall had cost him his sons and after securing Orcrist in the hall of memories to stand as a reminder of what would happen to those who would oppose the regime, Elrond took a boat and sailed west. 

Bilbo often wonders if he could take back the sword. He could not return Thorin’s crown but maybe under the cover of darkness he could retrieve Orcrist. It’s a fanciful idea which Thorin would not approve of so he’s afraid it will remain only a fantasy. 

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s voice awakes him from his reverie.

“In here,” he calls quietly and Thorin is suddenly in the room and taking a sleeping baby from him. Belladonna does not stir as he lays her in his crib and then he returns and helps Bilbo up and herds him into their bedroom. “You weren’t very long, did you run?” Bilbo asks suspiciously as Thorin pulls down the covers and pats the mattress. 

“Drogo was on his way over with Frodo. I told him now was not a good time and he promised to look after Raven.” Bilbo sits down on the bed and then lays down shifting uncomfortably while Thorin stares at him licking his lips leaving little to the imagination. “Baby is asleep, we’re alone,” Thorin stated suggestively. 

“Nice try, but you are never touching me again.” Thorin frowns and pulls the quilt over him. 

“Never?”

“Never meaning three months, so yes, never.” 

Thorin laughed and leaned over him and pressed their lips together briefly. “I look forward to never.” Being so close Bilbo could breathe in his scent of earth and especially fire and something unique that sang to his heart and called him home. “I’ll get tea ready and clean up that shattered vase,” Thorin stated and moved away and headed towards the door. 

“Thorin!” Bilbo called, suddenly desperate to ask him a question. 

“Yes?” He asked, stood by the door. 

“What does my scent smell like to you?” 

A slow smile crossed his lips as he stared at Bilbo fondly. “Home.” He answered honestly and walked out of the door. 

“Thorin!” 

The dwarf returned with narrowed eyes. “Yes?” He asked testily. 

“I have thought of an ending for my book: _and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite number is 6, bit of useless trivia there for you. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments. I fandom hop like a blue-arsed fly but I plan to write more Thorin/Bilbo in the future. 
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, happy random gift day.


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